University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


In  the  Shadow  of  San  Juan 


McNDLL  ARMSTRONG 


Corridor  of  Mission  San  Juan 
at  Capistrano. 


In  the  Shadow  of  San  Juan 


By  MAURICE  McNEILL  ARMSTRONG 


Los  Angeles,  Cal. 
PUEBLO  PUBLISHING  CO. 

1910 


CA-L 
•-F 


7401 


Copyright.  1910. 

by 
PUEBLO  PUBLISHING  GO. 


Tf-fE  riM.'CROFT  I-IRRAP  V 


*******  <-**S  '    F  ***!F*f 

PS 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Corridor  of  Mission  San  Juan 

at  Capistrano,        .        Frontispiece 

A  Window  of  the  Past,      .       Page  48 

Door  of  the  Chapel  at 

Capistrano,         .          .        Page  96 


YKAH 


5KT 


IN  THE  SHADOW 

OF 
SAN  JUAN 


INTRODUCTION. 


ESTLED  against  the  pro- 
tecting walls  of  an  adobe 
ruin  at  Capistrano  I  found 
a  neglected  rosebush  that 
had  long  fought  against  ad- 
verse conditions  and  against 
unfriendly  growth,  so  that 
its  form  was  gnarled  and  stunted.  One 
very  small  but  wonderfully  scented 
blossom  was  half  hidden  among  the 
dust-covered  leaves  that  matched  the 
dusky  walls  behind.  So  similar  was  the 
plant  to  its  surroundings  that  I  would 
have  stepped  upon  and  crushed  it  had 
not  a  breath  of  perfume  in  the  desolate 
waste  startled  me. 

It  seemed  as  though  the  plant,  exer- 


cising  an  intelligence,  and  realizing  it 
could  no  longer  attract  by  magnificence 
of  flowers  or  foliage,  sought  aid  by 
throwing  all  of  its  remaining  strength 
into  fragrance  for  a  last,  dying  appeal. 
Nor  was  its  call  in  vain,  for  it  has  been 
since  removed  to  more  friendly  sur- 
roundings and  more  worthy  care,  and 
the  fragrance  of  its  later  flowers  has  de- 
lighted many  a  visitor. 

The  grandeur  of  the  Mission  Days  of 
California  has  passed  away,  but  linger- 
ing around  the  ruined  Missions  is  their 
alluring  atmosphere,  as  compelling  in 
its  charm  as  the  perfume  of  that 
neglected  rosebush  at  Capistrano.  And 
like  the  rose  of  the  forgotten  garden, 
this  relic  of  the  old  days  is  transplanted 
to  new  soil  that  it  may  not  be  forever 
lost. 


CHAPTER    I. 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN. 

CHAPTER  I. 

|]S  those  days  the  Republic 
was  young  and  the  Amer- 
ican Jason  had  not  begun 
his  quest  of  the  Golden 
Fleece.  Those  were  tho 
Mission  days  in  California, 
and  the  romances,  intrigues 
and  lesser  history  of  that  age  were  lost 
with  the  passing  of  the  conquered  race 
or  hidden  through  the  Confessional  in 
those  sepulchral  citadels  the  Spanish 
padres  had  scattered  through  the  more 
fertile  valley^. 

Only  by  chance  does  one  come  upon 

13 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

glimpses  of  that  life,  as  the  hidden 
treasures  of  the  Moors  are  found  in 
the  ancient  Avails  and  ruins  of  the  Al- 
hambra.  And  thus,  by  chance,  I  came 
upon  this  record  of  life  in  the  shadow 
of  San  Juan,  wherein  is  mingled  a  story 
that  at  times  is  clear  in  all  its  detail— 
at  others  vaguely  dimmed  by  age — after 
the  manner  of  a  scene  by  moonlight, 
where  detail  is  the  more  pronounced  by 
reason  of  the  dark  depths  and  shadows 
surrounding  it. 

However,  the  story  may  be  the  better 
for  age,  like  that  flask  of  old  Spanish 
wine  I  possess  made  by  that  Senor  Sau- 
ceda  you  soon  will  know,  and  labeled, 
perhaps,  by  Rosa  or  Mariana,  or,  as  so 
often  occurs  when  we  too  thoroughly  in- 
vestigate, in  unromantic  fashion,  by 
Dolores  the  maid.  And  who  knows  but 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

that  the  bottle  of  brandy  standing  be- 
side it  was  filled  from  the  same  cask 
from  which  Juan  Fernandez  and  Senor 
Andrade  were  served  that  eventful  day 
in  1842  when  this  history  began? 

As  to  its  verity  there  is  no  doubt,  for 
that  same  Juan  Fernandez,  then  in  the 
last  years  of  his  life,  recounted  to  me— 
often  word  for  word — and  scene  for 
scene — the  past  which  to  him  was  most 
of  life.  I  have  kept  his  secret,  but  now 
that  he  is  gone  I  write  it  down  in  his 
words  for  the  present  generation, 
realizing  too  well,  however,  how  much 
is  lost  in  the  telling  by  the  absence  of 
Senor  Juan's  wonderful  presence  and 
sonorous,  effective  voice. 


Where  now,  began  Juan  Fernandez, 
you  see  the  ruins  of  a  large  adobe  ranch 

15 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

house  standing  a  short  distance  beyond 
this  old  Mission,  was  the  home  of  Senor 
Sauceda,  a  wine  maker  at  Capistrano, 
and  in  the  older  days  Senor  Sauceda 
gave  two  reasons  for  the  popularity  of 
Ms  hacienda.  One  was  his  wines — and 
it  was  an  index  to  his  character  that  he 
always  mentioned  them  first — and  the 
other  was  his  daughters. 

Charming  as  was  Rosa,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  her  older  sister,  an  irresistible 
attraction  drew  you  to  Mariana,  or,  as 
she  was  more  familiarly  called,  "The 
Beauty  of  San  Juan,"  for  such  was  her 
devotion  and  religious  spirit  that  she 
seemed  more  the  beauty  of  the  Mission 
than  of  the  little  settlement  which  then, 
as  now,  bore  the  name  of  Capistrano. 
If,  in  describing  certain  scenes,  I  ap- 
pear inconsistent,  remember  that  I  de- 

16 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

scribe  them  as  scenes  with  whose  full 
detail  I  was  familiar  though  not  always 
present,  for  with  the  passing  of  time  so 
often  have  I  recalled  those  of  which  1 
knew  only  from  others  that  they  have 
become  as  real  to  me  as  those  in  which 
I  personally  figured. 

I  will  begin  with  my  first  visit  to  the 
home  of  Mariana's  father.  I  had  an- 
ticipated paternal  opposition  to  my  suit, 
but  having  fallen  a  victim  to  her 
charms,  the  intervals  between  the  merry 
parties  in  the  district  proved  much  too 
long,  and,  no  reasonable  opportunity  of- 
fering itself  to  see  her,  I  determined  to 
ride  to  Capistrano. 

It  was  a  rainy  morning  in  the  Spring 
of  1842,  and  Sauceda  was  particularly 
gruff.  He  was  seated  in  his  big  chair 
in  the  room  which  was  used  as  both  liv- 

17 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

ing  and  dining  room,  for  it  was  long 
and  broad  and  panelled  with  great 
rough  beams,  the  mesquite  fire  in  the 
open  fireplace  lighting  his  features  and 
accentuating  with  shadows  their  harsh- 
er lines,  when  Rosa,  pausing  as  she 
removed  the  dishes  from  the  table, 
turned  suddenly,  and  as  though  she  re- 
flected his  spirit  and  the  weather — her 
pretty  lips  puckering  poutingly — began, 

"I  wish  it  would  stop  raining.  The 
mountains  have  been  hidden  for  three 
days  and  we  have  tseen  only  the  foot- 
hills." 

Barely  removing  his  pipe,  Sauceda 
answered : 

' '  This  rain  is  money  to  us.  There  will 
be  no  shortage  of  grapes  for  wine  this 
year." 

"Ah,"  sighed  Rosa,  "but   the  more 

81 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

grapes  the  more  work.  Your  words 
are  as  cheerless  and  gloomy  as  the 
weather." 

Then,  laughing,  she  added:  "You 
should  have  reminded  me,  as  does  Mari- 
ana, how  magnificent  the  snow-cov- 
ered range  will  appear  when  the  cloud 
curtain  is  lifted.  We  would  be  a  sad 
trio  were  it  not  for  Mariana,  father." 

And  Mariana  was  indeed  the  sun- 
shine in  that  household. 

In  answer,  Sauceda  grumbled : 

"Mariana  has  too  much  enthusiasm. 
She  does  not  take  life  seriously  enough 
for  future  good.  This  is  a  harsh  world 
at  best,  so  be  assured  of  that  and  learn 
to  endure  it." 

That  was  the  gloom  and  then  the  sun- 
shine entered.  Throwing  open  the 
outer  door,  in  dashed  Mariana,  a  great 

19 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

bunch  of  rain-splashed  wild  flowers  in 
her  arms,  her  rosy  cheeks  glistening 
with  the  welcome  rain.  Her  joyous 
laugh  at  any  other  time  would  have  been 
irresistible,  but  obtaining  no  response, 
it  vanished,  and  pausing,  she  said  with 
good-huniored  surprise : 

"Why  are  you  so  down-hearted  over 
a  few  rainy  days'?  This  is  glorious 
weather. " 

"Glorious  weather!"  said  Rosa,  "I 
fail  to  see  the  glorious  part  of  it." 

"Nor  would  you,  Mariana,"  Sauceda 
hastened  to  add,  and  not  without  some 
show  of  temper,  "if  you  remained  here 
attending  to  the  duties  of  the  house." 

"I  love  the  rain,"  she  answered,  and 
shaking  the  wild  beauties  she  was  hold- 
ing into  a  more  effective  position  she 
added,  "and  the  flowers.  Nature  talks 
20 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

to  our  hearts  through  the  flowers." 

By  this  time  the  shower  had  become 
a  clashing  rain  and  no  longer  could  one 
trace  the  rain  drops  trickling  down  the 
western  panes,  for  the  fickle  wind 
dashed  them  in  great  splashes,  and 
often,  against  the  glass,  blurring  the 
view  of  the  world  without.  Sauceda 
settled  back  and,  puffing  at  his  pipe,  be- 
gan to  doze  again.  With  deft  hands 
Mariana  divided  the  poppies  and  the 
lupins,  and,  gathering  them  into  bowls, 
put  the  blue  ones  on  the  table  against 
the  wall  and  the  golden  poppies  before 
the  window  where  they  would  catch  the 
first  stray  rays  of  sunlight  and  open  to 
greater  glory. 

As  Rosa  continued  clearing  the  table, 
Mariana  asked : 

21 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"  Where  is -Dolores?  Has  she  not  re- 
turned?" 

"No,"  answered  Rosa,  and  awaited  a 
further  speech  from  the  Minerva  of  the 
family.  It  came  thus: 

"I  wonder  sometimes,  Rosa,  if  you 
have  any  very  strong  feelings  or  emo- 
tions, you  have  such  a  perfect  control 
over  them." 

"  Happiness  is  all  I  need,  and  you 
supply  most  of  mine,  dear." 

The  childish  frankness  of  Rosa's  an- 
swers was  charming.  Mariana  smiled. 

"And  the  supply  is  sometimes  lim- 
ited?" 

Rosa  laughed.  "Yes,  and  generally 
there  is  not  enough  for  the  three  of  us, 
so  father  rarely  has  any." 

"Rarely  ever,"  sighed  Mariana,  with 
a  despairing  gesture.  "Even  I  cannot 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

arouse  him  often.  Sometimes  when  I 
find  I  am  having  some  success  with  him 
he  appears  so  provoked  that  I  draw 
back  into  my  serious  self  like  a  fright- 
ened clam  into  its  shell.  It  is  strange 
that  we — father  and  daughter — should 
be  so  unlike  and  so  misunderstand  one 
another." 

This  unburdening  of  her  thoughts 
should  have  shown  Rosa  some  awaken- 
ing or  change  had  come  over  Mariana, 
but  Eosa  did  not  observe  it.  Looking 
over  at  her  father,  Mariana  continued, 
slowly,  almost  to  herself: 

"  Perhaps  it  is  wrong  to  speak  thus, 
but  I  may  not  always  have  to  be  im- 
mured in  this  chilling  atmosphere,  I 
will—" 

The  sentence  was  not  completed,  the 
entrance  of  Dolores,  the  maid,  inter- 

23 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

rupting  the  sisters.  At  the  request  of 
Mariana,  Dolores  completed  the  clear- 
ing of  the  table.  As  she  lifted  the  cloth 
the  rushing  folds  knocked  the  pipe  from 
Sauceda's  mouth.  Such  incidents  were 
catastrophes  in  that  household. 

"Cuidado!"  shouted  the  half -wak- 
ened sleeper.  But  Morpheus  had  too 
strong  a  hold,  and  he  dozed  again. 

" Dolores,  you  are  careless,"  reproved 
Rosa. 

Sauceda  having  settled  himself,  ap- 
parently asleep  again,  and  Dolores  hav- 
ing entered  into  the  next  room  with  the 
cloth,  Rosa  began : 

"Dolores  interrupted  us.    You  will—- 
what?" 

"I  will  marry,"  answered  the  other. 

"You  believe  you  can  find  some  one 
to  please  you?  You  never  have." 

24 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

4 'Rosa,  if  I  did  not  know  how  many 
worthy  suitors  seek  my  hand  I  would 
marry  the  first  gentleman  that  next  en- 
ters this  house  rather  than  remain 
single." 

"It  might  be  old  Senor  Andrade," 
hinted  Rosa  slyly. 

"Possibly,  and  it  might  be — "  and 
here  Mariana  paused  laughingly,  her 
head  poised  in  that  delightfully  tan- 
talizing manner  of  a  charming  woman 
about  to  impart  an  interesting  secret. 

Perhaps  Sauceda  was  not  sleeping 
during  this  last,  for  before  Mariana  fin- 
ished her  sentence  he  interrupted  dis- 
agreeably, 

"No,  it  would  not." 

"Why  not?"  queried  the  startled 
Mariana. 

"Because    I   have    decided   on   An- 

25 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

drade,"  answered  Sauceda  with  an  ail 
of  great  finality.  The  resulting  pause 
was  impressive.  That  speech  was  the 
forerunner  of  a  great  conflict  between 
two  strong  wills;  and  the  silence  was 
like  that  which  precedes  a  storm. 

Such  was  the  auspicious,  or  rather, 
inauspicious,  set  of  circumstances  that 
was  to  usher  me  into  the  presence  of 
Senor  Sauceda  and  Mariana. 

Sauceda 's  unexpected  assertion  of 
authority  was  not  without  effect.  In 
subdued  whispers  the  sisters  continued 
their  conversation. 

"Whom  might  it  be?"  asked  Eosa. 

At  that  moment  I  was  passing  the 
window  that  faced  the  patio  or  inner 
court  of  the  house.  Mariana,  with  a 
tone  of  defiance  she  intended  her  father 
to  observe,  answered  boldly,  with  a 

26 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

brave  toss  of  her  queenly  head — -as  few 
but  a  Senorita  can  toss  it — 

i  i  It  might  be ' ' —  pausing — ' i  Senor 
Juan  Fernandez." 

Sauceda,  surprised  at  a  defiance  he 
eould  scarcely  believe,  raised  in  his 
chair,  listening  intently  for  a  further 
outbreak  to  reprimand. 

"Do  you  remember  him,  Rosa?" 
asked  Mariana. 

The  question  was  never  answered,  for 
hearing  my  knock,  "  There  is  some  one 
now,"  said  Eosa.  "I  will  let  them  in," 
and,  opening  the  door,  graciously 
asked : 

"Will  you  enter,  Senor?" 

Surprised,  Mariana  advanced  to  meet 
me. 

"Senor  Fernandez — my  father,"  she 
said,  introducing  us.  And  after  my 

27 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

somewhat  embarrassed  return  of  the 
greeting,  continued: 

"This  is  unpleasant  weather  for  you 
to  be  traveling." 

"Even  a  rainy  day  is  not  without  its 
rewards,"  I  ventured. 

"How  has  it  rewarded  you,  Senor?" 

"By  forcing  me  to  become  a  guest  in 
the  Temple  of  Venus." 

"Venus?"  She  raised  her  eyebrows 
inquiringly. 

"Yes,  the  Goddess  of  Beauty,"  I  an- 
swered, and  I  perceived  by  the  beaming 
glance  of  Dolores,  who  had  entered  and 
heard  the  last  words,  that  Mariana  was 
much  loved  in  that  household. 

Sauceda  then  addressed  me. 

"You  are  welcome  here,  Senor  Fer- 
nandez, as  is  any  stranger  at  such  a 

28 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

time,  but  you  have  me  to  thank  for  any 
hospitality  you  may  receive." 

I  was  surprised.  It  was  not  the  style 
of  welcome  a  stranger  was  accustomed 
to  receive  in  New  Spain.  Perhaps  I 
had  unintentionally  offended  him.  So 
I  sought  to  repair  the  error  by  a  speech 
complimentary. 

"A  thousand  pardons,  Senor,  my  re- 
mark was  meant  in  the  best  of  spirit. 
If  I  mistake  not,  this  is  the  house  of 
Senor  Sauceda,  maker  of  fine  wines. " 

Here  Rosa  interrupted  the  embar- 
rassment by  asking : 

" Would  you  like  some,  Senor?" 

"I  have  heard  of  the  products  of 
Senor  Sauceda 's  vineyards  before  and 
have  tasted  of  them  and  had  no  occa- 
sion for  regret.  Yes,  thank  you,"  I  an- 
swered. 

• 

29 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

" Dolores,  some  wine  for  Senor/' 
commanded  Kosa. 

After  Dolores  left  silence  ensued.  The 
pause  was  broken  by  Sauceda. 

"I  am  only  a  wine  maker,"  said  he, 
"but  I  know  my  business.  You  have 
heard  of  me,  Senor  Fernandez,  and  I 
have  heard  of  you,  but  our  reports  dif- 
fer. I  have  heard  that  Senor  Fernan- 
dez is  a  gay  lad,  very  handsome,  but 
with  little  manner,  and  no  judgment." 

At  that  speech  I  knew  that  it  was  no 
chance  remark  that  had  occasioned  his 
enmity.  There  was  a  more  forcible 
cause  that  I  was  not  slow  at  under- 
standing and  which  you  have  doubtless 
guessed — he  suspected  me  as  a  rival  to 
a  more  favored  suitor  for  Mariana 's 
hand. 

It  is  one  of  the  pleasures  of  old  age 

30 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

to  recall  the  attractions  of  a  splendid 
youth,  and  now,  without  vanity,  I  can 
say  that  in  the  sports,  at  the  dances, 
and,  I  am  sorry  to  add,  at  the  wine 
also,  Juan  Fernandez  had  few  equals 
and  no  superiors. 

I  cared  not  for  his  opinion,  but  to 
clear  myself  in  her  eyes — the  most  won- 
derful eyes  in  the  world — I  answered: 

"Perhaps  I  do  deserve  that  reputa- 
tion somewhat.  The  ruggedness  of  my 
youth  makes  me  forget  myself  at  times, 
but  why  should  I  grow  sober  while  I 
am  young?  Back  in  the  history  of  Spain 
my  ancestors  were  kings.  Time  has 
changed  that.  Another  line  sits  grimly 
on  the  throne,  and  I,  who  should  be 
there,  am  free  of  all  the  cares  of  state, 
a  plain  citizen  of  the  Republic  of  Mex- 


ico." 


31 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

Had  I  but  known,  it  was  placing  me 
the  more  unfavorably  before  Saueeda 
to  have  so  boasted  of  the  Republic,  as 
you  will  soon  see. 

At  this  moment  Dolores  returned 
with  the  wine,  and  handing  it  to  Rosa, 
she  artlessly  tendered  it  to  me.  Taking 
it,  I  thanked  her,  and  holding  it  high 
—and  looking  Sauceda  steadily  in  the 
eyes — realizing  that  he  perhaps  favored 
the  French  king's  conspiracy  to  obtain 
California,  answered  him  as  enemy  to 
enemy. 

"I  drink  to  the  only  king  I  know,  or 
Youth  has  ever  known — Pleasure!'7 

Sauceda  knew  not  what  to  answer. 
He  was  no  fool,  but  he  was  not  so  quick- 
witted as  was  Mariana. 

"From  what  I  have  heard,"  he  stam- 

32 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

mered,  angrily,  "you  drink  too  much 
wine,  Senor  Fernandez." 

For  some  reason  I  had  earned  the  ad- 
miration of  Dolores,  for  she  dared  to 
speak  in  my  favor. 

"The  wine  gives  his  cheeks  a  fine 
color,"  she  murmured. 

"Wine  is  like  all  pleasures,"  censured 
Sauceda;  "an  excellent  thing,  but  too 
much  surfeits  one." 

I  had  the  spirit  of  raillery  that  day, 
and  I  answered: 

"No,  it  is  like  the  kisses  of  a  charm- 
ing woman;  one  trial  is  not  enough." 

"What!"  shouted  Sauceda.  "You 
speak  from  experience !  A  light  tongue 
and  a  light  heart  generally  go  to- 
gether." 

"And  you  might  add — a  light  purse," 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

I  answered,  careless  of  the  conse- 
quences. 

There  is  no  telling  what  might  next 
have  happened,  for  at  that  moment  a 
loud  knocking  was  heard  at  the  door, 
and  opening  it  unceremoniously,  Senor 
Andrade,  who  I  later  came  to  know  too 
well,  entered.  I  at  once  guessed  by  the 
sudden  warmth  of  greeting,  by  the  more 
than  hospitable  welcome  of  Sauceda, 
and  the  bored  and  listless  greeting  of 
Mariana,  to  this  old  gentleman,  that  this 
was  my  rival — the  favored  suitor  in 
Sauceda 's  eyes.  Mariana  did  not  speak. 

"  Senor  Andrade  here  in  such  weath- 
er!" asked  Rosa  in  surprise,  for  she  had 
not  learned  to  distrust  him. 

Rising  and  approaching  him  cordial- 
ly, Sauceda  remarked: 

"You  should    be  more  watchful    of 

34 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

your  health,  Senor.  You  are  not  ac- 
customed to  our  climate." 

"This  climate  is  not  unlike  that  of 
Spain,  and  even  milder,  in  my  opinion. 
Besides  you  speak  as  though  this  heav- 
enly valley  was  possessed  of  a  severe 
climate, "  replied  Andrade  gayly.  "I 
am  not  young,  but  this  rain  is  only  a 
tonic.  The  weather  is  clearing  now,  and 
a  glass  of  your  good  brandy  will  pre- 
vent any  serious  consequences." 

The  proud  old  wine  maker  was  thor- 
oughly sensible  to  a  compliment  be- 
stowed by  the  proper  suitor,  for,  rub- 
bing his  palms  delightedly  together,  he 
chuckled : 

"They  cannot  be  in  my  house  two 
minutes  without  praising  my  liquors. 
Rosa,  some  wine  for  Senor." 

35 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"You  mean  brandy,  father/7  cor- 
rected Rosa. 

"Yes,  brandy/'  he  replied. 

"Wait,"  said  Andrade,  a  sudden 
question  clouding  his  features.  "What 
has  made  you  so  thoughtless,  Mariana  ? 
You  generally  think  of  the  wine." 

"Never  so  quickly  as  you,  Senor," 
answered  Mariana,  laughing,  a  deep 
suspicion  of  sarcasm  and  rebuke  in  her 
voice.  "Like  the  weather,  Senor  An- 
drade, I  am  changeable,  and  Rosa  can 
get  it  more  graciously  than  I.  Also, 
Dolores  is  here." 

Dolores,  who  had  been  impudently 
listening,  started  guiltily  to  dusting,  but 
stopped  for  orders. 

"Bring  some  brandy  for  Senor  An- 
drade, Dolores;  Senor  does  not  wish 
Rosa  to  go,"  said  Mariana. 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

As  Dolores  left  the  room  Andrade, 
angered  by  Mariana's  unyielding  atti- 
tude, in  a  very  imperious,  self-confident 
tone,  sought  to  humiliate  her  by  man- 
ner and  words. 

"You  are  in  a  disagreeable  humor 
this  morning.  A  nice  reward  for  my 
ride  in  the  rain." 

Without  offering  a  reply,  her  silence 
more  effective  than  mere  tantalizing 
words,  Mariana  toyed  carelessly  with 
the  petals  of  a  flower.  The  language 
of  silence — the  speech  implied  in  move- 
ment of  the  fan  or  slow  destruction  of 
the  willing  flower — is  nowhere  under- 
stood so  well  as  among  the  daughters  of 
Spain. 

Andrade  paled  with  anger,  his  hands 
trembled  and  he  longed  for  revenge. 

1  i  Do  you  imagine,  Senorita  Sauceda, ' ' 

37 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

lie  thundered,  "that  I  endure  these  long 
rides  in  the  rain  for  the  mere  pleasure 
of  splattering  myself  with  mud  and 
drenching  my  clothes  with  rain?" 

Now  the  drinking  of  liquors  at  this 
and  later  periods  of  Andrade's  career 
was  his  weakest  point,  as  Mariana  well 
knew  when  she  asked: 

"Is  not  a  glass  of  father 's  delicious 
brandy  sufficient  reward?" 

Dolores  arriving  at  that  time  had  just 
handed  the  glass  to  Andrade  as  her 
sentence  was  completed.  Pausing  an- 
grily, he  looked  threateningly  into  the 
quivering  blaze  of  color  before  him, 
and,  reflecting  its  agitation,  shouted : 

"The  brandy!    The  brandy!    No." 
and  dashed  the  glass  violently  to  the 
floor. 

"No,"  he  continued  slowly,  and  then 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

added  with  much  sarcasm  as  he  looked 
in  my  direction,  "I  came  over  to  see 
how  yon  entertain  yourself  when  you 
are  not  expecting  me." 

There  is  no  denying  that  Andrade 
had  an  innate  knowledge  of  the  dra- 
matic, and  at  this,  as  on  many  occa- 
sions, he  brought  his  full  knowledge  of 
that  subject  into  use.  Following  the  ef- 
fect of  his  remark  closely,  he  continued 
sternly  to  Mariana : 

"Are  you  ready  to  continue  sitting 
for  the  portrait,  or  will  your  attractive 
stranger  demand  your  attention  ?" 

"Pardon  me,  you  have  never  met?" 
she  asked,  calmly.  "There  are  so  few 
strangers  in  this  part  of  the  world  I 
believed  you  had.  Senor  Andrade — 
Senor  Fernandez."  We  bowed  coldly. 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"You  are  ready,  Mariana?'7  demand- 
ed the  artist. 

There  was  silence  save  for  Dolores, 
who  completed  picking  up  the  broken 
glass  and  then  slipped  quietly  from  the 
room. 

"  You  must  know,  Senor,  it  is  impos- 
sible for  me  to  grant  you  that  favor 
now." 

"What!"  screamed  Andrade,  losing 
all  control  of  his  feelings.  "  After  I 
have  ridden  these  miles  and  in  this 
wreather  to  paint  you,  }^ou  refuse !  You ! 
Why,  the  Queen  of  Spain  never  dared 
to  treat  me  as  contemptuously  as  you 
have." 

"I  confess,  Senor  Andrade,"  she  an- 
swered, meekly,  "I  am  only  a  simple 
child  of  the  New  World  and  am  not 
familiar  enough  with  court  etiquette  to 

40 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

know  what  is  proper  under  the  circum- 
stances. Here  we  do  as  we  please  with- 
out regard  to  your  strict  rules  of  form, 
only  asking  the  approval  of  our  con- 
science. You  misunderstand  us  or  you 
would  not  be  angiy.  Rosa,  hand  Senor 
Andrade  another  glass  of  brandy." 

Andrade  was  purple  with  rage.  This 
simple  speech  was  so  unlike  the  bril- 
liant answers  and  stinging  sarcasm  that 
he  was  accustomed  to  hear  in  the  Old 
World,  and  which  inspired  even  more 
clever  and  effective  answer  on  his  part, 
he  was  completely  outwitted. 

"'If  you  were  clever,"  he  said,  "you 
would  not  have  to  resort  to  insult  to 
cover  your  discomfiture." 

Mariana  smiled  as  she  answered. 

"I  am  sorry  I  am  not  clever.  I  yield 
all  the  honors  in  that  field  to  you,  Senor 

41 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

Andrade,  since  you  seem  to  claim 
them." 

"She  is  going  too  far.  She  is  going 
too  far,"  muttered  Sauceda,  who  thus 
far  had  maintained  a  discreet  silence, 
and  he  called  sternly,  " Mariana!" 

Andrade,  realizing  his  defeat,  turned 
to  the  father. 

"Sauceda,  I  would  speak  with  you," 
he  said,  leading  the  way  into  the  adjoin- 
ing room. 

"Yes,  yes,"  answered  Sauceda  as  he 
prepared  to  follow. 

With  a  sigh  of  temporary  relief,  at 
least,  we  saw  the  closing  of  the  great 
oak  door  after  them. 


CHAPTER   II  , 


CHAPTER  II. 


ATE  did  not  leave  us  long 
alone.       The     outer     door 
swung  open  and  a  iniddle- 
aged,  handsome  Frenchman 
entered,  for  then,  as  now, 
California  was  a  cosmopol- 
itan country. 
" Pardon,  is  Mile.  Eosa  in?"  he  asked. 
Calling  Eosa,  who  had  made  an  op- 
portunity to  leave  us  together,  Mariana 
introduced  Monsieur  Duflot  de  Mofras 
to  me.    He  was  a  very  polished  gentle- 
man, and  when  Eosa  entered  it  was 
quite  plain  she  liked  this  stately  cour- 
tier. 

45 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"Ok,  Duflot,"  she  said,  teasingly, 
"Mariana's  admirers  come  in  the  rain, 
but  you  wait  for  clear  weather,  it  seems. 
You  think  more  of  your  pleasure  than 
mine,  does  it  not  look  so?"  imitating 
to  perfection  his  quaint  brogue. 

"I  am  not  a  goose,  Kosa,"  answered 
the  embarrassed  De  Mofras;  "wet 
weather  does  not  suit  me.  You  under- 
stand?" 

"Perfectly,"  said  Rosa.  "You  mean 
to  infer  that  Mariana's  admirers  are 
geese." 

Poor  fellow!  I  well  knew  how  to 
sympathize  with  him  in  his  embarrass- 
ment. Turning  to  me  appealingly,  he 
apologized : 

"Pardon,  Senor,  I  do  not  mean  it  just 
that  way.  Rosa,  you  are  always  trying 
to  entangle  me." 

46 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

Rosa  laughed  merrily.  She  knew  how 
well  she  had  De  Mof  ras  in  her  power. 

"I  will  on  this  condition;  that  you 
come  with  me,"  she  said.  "The  weather 
has  cleared  now.  Nor  does  Mariana  re- 
quire your  presence,  do  you,  Mariana?" 
And  she  winked  roguishly  at  me  as  she 
said  the  last. 

"I  have  one  goose,"  retorted  Mariana 
laughingly.  "Now  we  are  even,  Mon- 
sieur de  Mof  ras,  are  we  not?" 

And  all  of  us  laughed  merrily  as  the 
two  went  into  the  garden. 

"She  contrives  to  make  life  thor- 
oughly miserable  for  that  poor  French- 
man," said  Mariana. 

"He  apparently  enjoys  it,"  I  sug- 
gested. 

"Because  he  is  unused  to  such  treat- 
ment and  the  novelty  provides  inter- 

47 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

est,"  she  answered.  "He  is  one  of  those 
men  who  consider  themselves  absolutely 
irresistible — and  Rosa  is  doubtless 
arousing  some  misgivings  in  his  mind." 

In  those  days  I  was  poor  and  just 
about  to  set  out  for  Spain  in  an  attempt 
to  recover  lands  that  were  my  father's. 
And  my  meager  fortune  was  scarcely 
enough  to  meet  my  needs.  Otherwise 
Mariana  would  have  sailed  with  me  and 
this  story  would  be  differently  told. 
Thus  does  Pate  intervene. 

For  the  first  time  we  were  alone,  and 
with  the  artlessness  of  the  Southern 
races  she  took  my  hand,  and,  fearful  I 
would  leave,  murmured: 

"Stay,  Juan.  Andrade  plans  with 
father  and  you  can  assist  me." 

"Your  father  needs  no  assistance,"  I 

48 


A  Window  of  the  Past. 


•V  OF  SAN  JUAN 

lose 
tely 

Rosa     is     doubtless 

Divings  in  his  mind/' 

•  r>ae  -»oor  and  just 

empt 
ands  t! 

;r  fortune  was   scai 
meet  my  needs.    Other 
Mariana  would  have  sailed  with  me  and 
y  would    be    differ* 

and 

d,  fearful  I 
1  leave,  murmured: 
"Stay,   Juan.     Andrade   plans  with 
father  and  you  can  assist  me." 
"Your  father  needs  no  assist* 

48 


aA^  \o  ^obm^N  Jk 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

boldly  said,  "if  what  I  have  heard  of 
Ms  actions  is  true." 

"He  is  only  hot-tempered, "  she  as- 
sured me,  "but  Andrade  is  cool,  schem- 
ing and  relentless. "  Then,  courage  re- 
turning, she  cried,  "If  my  father  loves 
me,  finally,  I,  and  not  Senor  Andrade, 
will  control  his  actions.  It  is  a  woman's 
wit  against  a  man's."  Then,  hearing 
a  movement  in  the  room  beyond,  "They 
are  coining  now,"  she  said.  "Ah — " 
and  she  trembled  as  I  held  her — "My 
father  knows  me  so  well.  From  all  oth- 
ers I  can  hide  some  of  my  weaknesses, 
but  he  knows  every  vulnerable  point, 
and  he  has  told  Andrade  every  one  of 
them." 

Sauceda  advanced  sternly  into  the 
room  with  all  the  dignity  of  an  outraged 
patriarch,  Andrade  following.  Ignor- 

49 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

ing  me,  lie  turned  to  Mariana  and  asked 
sharply : 

"Where  is  Rosa?    Call  her  here." 

"She  is  with  Monsieur  de  Mofras," 
she  answered,  after  calling  to  her.  And 
from  the  contented  look  on  Sauceda's 
face  as  she  mentioned  the  Frenchman 
I  knew  the  crafty  wine  maker  for  a 
schemer  with  the  French  against  our 
Republic.  Rosa  entered. 

"Yes,"  she  said. 

"Your  father  asked  for  you,  Rosa," 
replied  Mariana. 

"Yes,"  said  Sauceda,  brutally;  "you 
seem  to  know  this  Fernandez.  Have 
you  met  him  before  he  came  here  to- 
day?" 

"Yes,  father,  twice,"  she  answered, 
frankly. 

50 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

" Twice,"  he  snarled,  "and  Mariana, 
has  she  met  him?" 

"Why  do  you  not  ask  her?"  evaded 
Rosa. 

"How  often  has  Mariana  met  him?" 
stormed  Sauceda. 

"Twice  that  I  know  of,"  said  Rosa, 
meekly. 

"You  think  there  were  times  you  do 
not  know  of  ?"  he  continued. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  answered,  sim- 

piy- 

"You  may  go  now — De  Mofras  is 
waiting,"  added  Andrade,  even  then  at- 
tempting to  force  his  domination  upon 
the  household.  Rosa  left  us.  Turning 
to  me,  Sauceda  demanded : 

"Senor  Fernandez,  why  did  you  need 
a  storm  as  your  pretext  for  coming 
here?" 

51 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

"I  did  not,"  I  answered.  "Your 
daughter  would  be  sufficient  induce- 
ment.' ' 

"I  do  not  accept  frivolous  answers. 
How  many  times  have  you  met  her?" 
His  anger  was  intense  as  he  spoke  the 
last. 

"I  cannot  answer  that,"  I  said,  dis- 
creetly, "  since  it  concerns  your  daugh- 
ter also." 

"Eh?"  he  demanded,  furiously. 

Very  calmly  I  repeated  the  answer. 

"I  cannot  answer  that  since  it  con- 
cerns your  daughter  also." 

Mariana  interrupted.  *  'We  have  met 
eight  times,"  she  said.  "I  have  no  rea- 
son for  not  telling  you." 

" Indeed,"  sneered  Sauceda,  "then 
why  did  you  not  tell  me  sooner  ?  When 

52 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

meetings  are  necessarily  secret  there 
must  be  some  reason  for  secrecy/' 

Anclrade,  who  had  said  nothing  dur- 
ing the  foregoing,  could  not  resist  one 
shaft  of  sarcasm. 

"  Senor  is  a  brave  soldier  when  he  has 
a  Jeanne  d'Arc  to  fight  for  him.  You 
will  have  to  obtain  your  information 
from  your  daughter  and  not  from  this 
surly  fellow,"  he  added,  becoming  dis- 
agreeably personal.  As  an  unbidden 
guest  it  was  not  my  time  to  contract  a 
quarrel  or  provoke  a  fight,  so  I  held  my 
peace.  Sauceda  began  again. 

"  Mariana,  what  was  the  cause  of  your 
secrecy  ?  Why  was  it  necessary  to  keep 
me  uninformed?" 

"  There  was  no  reason  for  not  telling 
you,  and  none  for  informing  you." 

Her  answers  gave   so    little    oppor- 

53 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

timity  for  anger;  so  calm  and  so  re- 
sourceful were  they  that  they  resisted 
his  attack  as  the  surface  of  a  smooth 
wall  resists  the  mountain  climber. 
Clearly  he  wanted  some  indiscreet 
speech  upon  her  part  or  mine  to  excuse 
harshness  on  his. 

" There  must  have  been  a  reason/7  he 
continued.  "  There  is  a  reason  for 
everything. '  '  Then,  with  a  cruel  tone  of 
contempt  and  suggestion,  "  Perhaps 
you  knew  of  none." 

"I  did  not,"  she  answered.  "Perhaps 
I  did  not  tell  you  because  I  feared  you 
would  be  angry." 

Here  was  Sauceda's  opportunity.  He 
became  overbearing,  brutal. 

"What  cause  have  you  for  thinking 
I  might  be  angry?  Am  I  ever  angry, 

54 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

eh  f  You  thought  I  would  object,  but 
you  intended  to  disobey." 

To  understand  fully  the  effect  of  this 
speech  upon  Mariana  one  must  know 
that,  though  she  had  inherited  a  re- 
sourceful mind,  and  also,  from  her  fath- 
er, at  least,  the  elements  of  proper  self- 
defense,  she  had  been  so  imbued  with 
the  gentle  spirit  of  kindliness  of  the 
Mission  training  as  to  defend  with  quiet 
speech  rather  than  force.  And  that  cer- 
tain quality  of  honesty  and  frankness 
made  them  doubly  effective. 

"You  thought  I  would  object — but 
you  meant  to  disobey,"  Sauceda  had 
complained. 

"It  is  not  so  much  your  nature  to  ob- 
ject, father,  as  Senor  Andrade's,"  she 
answered. 

"Then  I  have  no  mind  of  my  own?" 

55 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

gTumbled  Sauceda,  somewhat  subdued. 

"No,  father,  I  did  not  say  that." 

From  her  answer  it  was  plain  there 
was  no  further  satisfaction  to  be  had 
on  that  subject.  Sauceda  then  turned 
his  attack  to  me. 

"You  thought  it  unnecssary  to  inves- 
tigate concerning  this  Fernandez — his 
ancestry,  his  history — did  you*?" 

"I  have  heard  him  well  spoken  of, 
and  his  appearance  answers  for  him 
also,"  commented  Mariana. 

"Yes,  his  appearance  speaks  for  him, 
but  you  did  not  consider  your  father 
the  proper  source  of  information,"  said 
Sauceda  with  sarcasm. 

Before  answering,  Mariana  looked  at 
Andrade  and  then  spoke. 

"I  did  not  believe    Senor    Andrade 

56 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

would  be  entirely  impartial  in  his  re- 
port concerning  Senor  Fernandez. " 

Andrade  flushed.  '  'The  report  would 
not  be  flattering  even  if  made  by  a  cas- 
ual observer, "  he  retorted.  "It  would 
be  found  that  he  is — " 

Mariana  stopped  his  words  with  a 
gesture.  "No,  Senor  Fernandez  is  a 
guest  in  this  house,  as  you  are,  Senor 
Andrade,  and  if  you  have  words  of  in- 
sult to  offer  they  must  not  be  given  in 
my  presence.  While  he  is  here  I  will 
answer  for  him." 

"You  know  enough  in  six  meetings  to 
enable  you  to  speak  with  so  much  as- 
surance concerning  him?"  asked  An- 
drade. 

"In  eight,"  she  answered,  and  smiled 
at  his  discomfiture.  It  was  a  frank, 
open  smile  born  of  a  clear  conscience, 

57 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

and  somewhat  silenced  the  angry  schem- 
ers. Then  with  a  covert  reference  to 
Andrade 's  boasted  lineage,  she  contin- 
ued: 

"We  are  now  beyond  the  lines  of  an- 
cestry. When  Mexico  became  a  Repub- 
lic she  renounced  the  entanglements  of 
title.  Those  we  hear  now  are  by  cour- 
tesy and  not  by  law.- ' 

Andrade,  tired  of  fencing  with  so 
clever  an  opponent,  addressed  me. 
"  There  are  some  titles  that  cannot  be 
proven  in  the  courts,  are  there  not, 
Senor  Fernandez  ?"  referring  to  my 
father's  estates  I  sought  to  obtain. 

"The  future  will  determine  that,"  I 
answered. 

Again  Mariana  spoke. 

"Your  insinuations  are  unnecessary, 
Senor  Andrade.  Even  should  the  courts 

58 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

of  Spain    deny    his    heirship  I  would 
choose  him  beyond  any  rank  and  title 


vou  can  name/ 


"It  shall  go  no  further/'  shouted 
Sauceda.  "I  forbid  you,  Mariana,  to 
see  this  Fernandez  again." 

Mariana's  speech  had  created  con- 
sternation in  their  plans.  Andrade 
leaned  closer  to  Sauceda  and  whispered, 
44  There  is  nothing  more  we  can  say 
now."  Sauceda  straightened  up, 
paused,  and  said,  steadily: 

"  These  are  the  last  words  on  the  sub- 
ject we  will  have  for  the  present.  Your 
guest  may  go.  And  not  even  the  pre- 
text of  a  rain  storm  is  to  allow  him 
a  welcome  here  again." 

I  turned  and  silently  took  my  hat  and 
cloak,  and  in  silence  stepped  into  the 
patio  without.  There  I  paused  a  mo- 

59 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

ment  and  looked  back  at  Mariana,  who 
had  partly  followed  me  to  the  door.  I 
can  hear  the  melody  of  her  voice  now 
as  she  spoke. 

"I  have  a  welcome  for  you  always, 
but  this  is  also  my  father's  house.  You 
will  forgive  me?" 

"With  all  my  heart,"  I  answered. 
And  the  door  was  closed. 


60 


CHAPTER   III. 


CHAPTER  III. 


T  was  night  and  two  weeks 
later  before  I  again  saw 
that  inner  court  and  the 
long,  wide  porch  that  sur- 
rounded it,  A  moonlight 
night,  so  brilliant  that  it 
afforded  the  unwelcome 
suitor  no  protection.  They  were  danc- 
ing within,  but  well  I  knew  Mariana 
would  not  dance  all  of  the  dances.  Some 
time  she  must  be  alone  in  the  garden 
with  herself — and,  pardon,  Senor— 
thoughts  of  me. 

Who    would    guess    of    the    former 
beauty  of  that  inner  garden  from  its 

63 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

ruins?  Ah,  the  pleasures  of  yesterday 
are  the  regrets  and  sorrows  of  the 
present. 

In  the  shadow  of  a  jasmine  vine  I 
watched  for  some  opportunity  of  seeing 
Mariana  alone.  Inside  the  dancers 
passed  in  swift  confusion,  the  mando- 
lins and  guitars  making  the  most  ro- 
mantic accompaniment  in  the  world. 
Small  wonder  that  I,  intoxicated  with 
the  night — the  wondrous  odor  of  the 
jasmine  blossoms — and  my  senses  ting- 
ling in  response  to  the  music  of  the 
dance,  should  have  been  madly  jealous 
as  I  saw  Mariana  among  the  dancers. 
The  partner  was  not  Andrade.  He  was 
too  old,  I  reasoned — but  I  did  not  know 
-perhaps  she  had  forgotten  me,  or, 
more  cruel,  perhaps  she  sought  to  use 
me  as  a  foil  to  tantalize  the  artist  the 

64 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

while  this  partner  might  in  reality  be 
the  one  lover.  A  thousand  mad  thoughts 
surged  in  my  brain,  for  the  Spanish 
blood  is  jealous. 

Then  Dolores  appeared  in  the  door- 
way. So  quietly  as  to  seem  almost  an 
apparition — a  phenomenon  of  the  night 
as  natural  in  the  tropics  and  semi-trop- 
ical countries  as  the  day  mirage  is  to 
the  desert.  There  was  something  won- 
derful about  her  in  the  moonlight,  for 
she  seemed  changed  as  she  entered  the 
garden  and  passed  down  the  stone  walk, 
moving  as  noiselessly  as  those  slow- 
moving  rays  of  moonlight  that  drifted 
in  among  the  flowers.  By  some  trans- 
formation, for  a  moment  that  night, 
time  turned  back  a  quarter  of  a  century 
for  Dolores.  Slowly  she  passed  among 
the  flowers.  Plucking  a  red  rose  she 

65 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

placed  it  among  her  whitening  tresses 
that  appeared  jet  black  by  moonlight. 
Her  eyes  flashed.  She  moved  more 
proudly.  She  was  again  in  spirit  and 
appearance  a  belle  of  the  ball — only  for 
a  moment — and  the  transformation 
ended.  She  was  old  Dolores  again  and 
the  moon  life  had  faded  away.  Grum- 
bling to  herself  she  complained  as  she 
saw  me  approaching. 

"It  is  always  this  way  when  the  house 
is  full  of  young  people.  I  have  no  quiet 
place  to  stay.  When  the  dance  is  over 
they  will  probably  come  here.'7 

"Mariana  is  dancing,"  I  said.  "Will 
you  secretly  tell  her  I  am  here?  The 
ship  for  Spain  leaves  sooner  than  ex- 
pected and  this  is  the  last  night  I  will 
have  at  Capistrano." 

66 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

; '  Will  you  meet  her  here  ?  When  I ' ' 
she  asked. 

"Tell  her  I  will  watch  and  meet  her 
when  she  comes  alone." 

Dolores  started  back  to  the  house. 

c  'Ah,  he  is  the  lover  for  her, ' '  she  mut- 
tered. "This  artist!  Bah!" 

And  again  I  knew  Dolores  liked  me. 


67 


CHAPTER   IV. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OS  A  lacked  the  reserve  and 
the  dignity  of  Mariana. 
Mariana  was  tall  and  state- 
ly, with  regular  features 
and  high  coloring,  and  in 
all  respects  typically  Span- 
ish. Rosa,  while  similar, 
had  the  vivacity  and  abandon  of  the 
French  disposition  and  was  small  and 
more  of  the  appearance  of  the  French 
women. 

I  watched  the  deserted  garden  for  a 
while,  and  then  as  the  door  opened  my 
heart  beat  wildly.  It  was  Mariana! 

71 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

No.  The  dance  was  over  and  it  was 
only  Rosa  and  De  Mofras  coming  out 
into  the  night  air. 

"It  is  much  nicer  here,"  said  Rosa. 

"If  you  say  so,"  the  gallant  French- 
man answered. 

"You  Frenchmen  are  always  clever, " 
complimented  Rosa.  "Perhaps  that  is 
why  France  has  had  so  many  great 
leaders." 

"Perhaps,"  said  De  Mofras,  "and 
Louis  Phillipe  is  the  greatest  of  all." 

"Greater  than  Napoleon?"  asked 
Rosa,  amazed. 

"Not  so  forcible,  but  more  subtle- 
one  who  slips  around  the  obstacles  Na- 
poleon would  have  sought  to  break." 

'  'And  if  he  should  succeed  in  making 
California  and  Mexico  a  part  of  his  em- 
pire?" 

72 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

Rosa's  question  was  left  incomplete, 
for  another  couple  came  to  the  door- 
way, but,  seeing  Rosa  and  her  compan- 
ion, stayed  within. 

"If  we  succeed  I  will  have  a  high 
position,"  said  De  Mofras. 

"This  is  a  large  country  with  very 
few  subjects  to  rule,''  said  Rosa, 


" 


We  will  colonize.  Besides,  the 
fewer  people  the  more  lands  for  those 
who  are  here."  The  Frenchman  was 
shrewd. 

And  here,  unconsciously,  I  was  spy- 
ing upon  the  plans  of  conspiracy  in 
which  my  rival,  Andrade,  and  Senor 
Sauceda  were  so  keenly  interested,  for 
the  still  night  air  carried  their  words 
perfectly  to  me. 

Do  you  believe  the  French  can  per- 

73 


" 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

suade  the  Republic  to  become  a  mon- 
archy again  ?"  asked  Eosa. 

"No  doubt,"  he  answered,  confident- 
ly. "  Mexico  would  be  more  easily  con- 
quered now  than  it  was  by  Cortez.  A 
small  army  would  accomplish  wonders. 
Spain  cannot  possibly  hope  to  regain 
it.  Mexico  is  already  afraid  of  Eng- 
land and  the  States,  both  of  whom  have 
designs  upon  her,  and  the  Mexican  lead- 
ers would  much  prefer  French  rule  to 
Anglo-Saxon  domination. ' ' 

"What  a  clever  plan  you  have  ar- 
ranged," his  admirer  answered. 

"And  the  best  of  it  is  that  it  will  suc- 
ceed," he  said  with  enthusiasm.  Every 
Mission,  rancho  and  village  that  I  have 
visited  seems  favorable  to  our  plans." 

And  here  I  had  my  suspicions  con- 
firmed. 

74 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

4 'Father  and  Senor  Andrade  are," 
admitted  Rosa,  "and  so  am  I." 

" We  cannot  fail  then,"  said  De  Mof- 
ras, "and  we  will  celebrate  the  conquest 
with  our  marriage.  If  successful,  I  am 
to  receive  a  grant  of  land  as  large  as 
the  North  of  Prance." 

"But  there  would  be  no  Paris  in  it!" 
teased  Eosa — and  she  was  charming 
when  she  teased. 

"No,  no  Paris,"  sighed  De  Mofras. 

At  this  Eosa  arched  her  brows  and 
puckered  her  lips. 

"Duflot,  why  do  you  sigh  for  Paris 
when  you  are  with  me  ?  Are  the  women 
of  Paris  so  attractive  that  they  make 
you  sigh  this  far  away?" 

"Every  Frenchman  loves  Paris  as  the 
Moslem  loves  Mecca,"  discreetly  re- 
joined De  Mofras. 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"And  the  women  of  Paris?"  she 
asked. 

"Some  of  them  are  very  charming," 
he  answered. 

"That  is  a  dangerous  admission, 
Monsieur  de  Mofras,"  she  said,  loftily. 

"I  am  no  longer  Duflot,"  he  pleaded. 

"Not  while  you  sigh  for  the  ladies 
of  Paris." 

"They  also  have  their  disadvan- 
tages." 

"And  I  have,"  she  said,  and  pouted. 

"I  was  not  comparing  them  to  you — 
you  are  beyond  comparison,"  he  added, 
gallantly. 

"Now,  Duflot,"  she  said,  half  smil- 
ing, t  'you  are  seeking  to  make  amends. ' ' 

"I  never  intended  to  displease  you," 
he  said,  frankly. 

"I  may  forgive  you,"  she  said,  com- 

76 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

promisingly,  "but  first  tell  ine  of  the 
disadvantages  of  these  Parisian  beau- 
ties.'' 

From  this  speech  De  Mofras  realized 
he  had  been  disarmed  by  forgiveness 
and  was  now  in  more  danger  than  ever. 

"They  are  too  clever,"  he  answered, 
cautiously. 

"Oh!"  she  said,  disdainfully. 

"And  too  nimble-witted, "  he  contin- 
ued. "Their  conversation  is  a  continual 
warfare,  in  which  man  is  more  than 
likely  to  be  vanquished.  Repartee  is  a 
poor  fort  for  men  to  fight  behind." 

"What  else? "demanded  Rosa  with- 
out pity. 

'  'They  are  too  complex  in  their  man- 
ners. One  needs  the  training  of  a  life- 
time to  cope  with  their  inherited 
routine" — he  paused. 

77 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"Yes,  and—?"  insisted  his  fair  in- 
quisitor. 

"They  care  more  for  fashion  than 
learning,  and,  though  clever,  are  conceit- 
ed— beautiful,  but  artificial — polite,  but 
hypocritical — in  short,  they  try  to  be- 
come as  unnatural  as  possible,  but  they 
are  fascinating."  He  paused. 

"From  your  description  they  cer- 
tainly have  many  disadvantages,"  she 
said,  demurely.  "It  would  not  be  just 
to  compare  them  with  me,"  she  added, 
innocently.  And  De  Mofras,  unsus- 
pectingly answered,  "Certainly  not." 

Then,  having  drawn  him  into  the 
depths  like  a  hunter  misled  by  a  wood 
nymph,  she  said,  saucily : 

"Of  course  not.  I  would  be  found 
simple  where  they  are  complex — plain 
where  they  have  added  the  artificialities 

78 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

of  fashion — studied  where  they  display 
the  abandonment  of  intuition — and 
stupid  where  they  are  fascinating. 
Truly,  Monsieur  de  Mofras,  I  fear  if 
I  was  in  France  on  one  bank  of  the 
Seine  and  the  ladies  of  Paris  on  the 
other — there  would  be  no  question  as 
to  which  side  of  the  river  you  would  an- 
chor your  boat." 

De  Mofras  was  puzzled. 

"You  do  not  choose  to  relieve  me 
from  embarrassment,"  he  pleaded,  "but 
believe  me— 

Rosa  interrupted,  asking,  mischiev- 
ously: "You  humbly  beg  forgiveness'?1' 

"I  certainly  do,"  he  answered, 
meekly. 

"Then,  Monsieur  de  Mofras,  swear 
that  you  have  not  a  single  sweet- 

79 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

heart  in  all  the  land  of  Prance, "  she 
commanded. 

De  Mofras  smiled  as  he  answered,  "I 
have  only  one  sweetheart,  and  I  will 
bring  the  kingdom  of  France  to  her 
feet,"  referring  to  the  contemplated 
conquest  of  California  by  that  nation. 

Having  with  this  gallant  speech  pur- 
chased peace,  and  the  dance  having  be- 
gun again,  they  entered  the  house  and 
became  part  of  the  merrymaking 
within. 


80 


CHAPTER   V. 


CHAPTER  V. 


HERE  are  some  incidents  in 
one's  life  that,  insignificant 
in  themselves,  because  of 
later  circumstances  and 
happenings  stand  forth  in 
the  memory  with  remark- 
able prominence,  and  such 
a  one  occurred  when  Mariana  and 
I  met  in  that  jasmine-scented  rose  gar- 
den the  evening  of  the  dance. 

The  simplicity  and  calmness  of  place 
and  time  formed  a  strange  contrast  to 
the  life  within,  the  dancers  making  a 
separate  and  oblivious  world  so  short  a 
distance  from  us.  I  had  not  long  to 

83 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

wait  after  Rosa  and  the  Frenchman  en- 
tered. Mariana  stepped  cautiously  into 
the  moonlight.  Dolores  had  carried  the 
message  safely. 

"Juan,  Juan,"  she  called,  guardedly. 
I  hastened  to  meet  her. 

"Mariana,  this  is  the].ast  night, "  was 
my  greeting. 

'  'Dolores  has  told  me,  but  you  will  re- 
turn," she  said. 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  "and  when  I  re- 
turn I  will  come  here." 

Mariana  paused  mournfully  and, 
looking  far  into  the  heavens  as  though 
she  would  fathom  the  future,  mur- 
mured: "And  I  will  be  here,  per- 
chance— and  you  will  return,  perchance. 
Who  knows  in  this  uncertain  world?" 

"I  will  return,"  I  answered.    "You 

84 


JN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

have  said  it — and  a  woman's  mind  is 
almost  intuition." 

We  made  our  way  to  a  secluded  cor- 
ner seat  before  she  answered. 

"I  would  it  might  be  so,  yet  doubts 
prevail.  You  are  going  to  a  country 
whose  women  are  most  fascinating — to 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  courts  in  the 
world." 

"Why  are  you  so  fearful,  with  all 
your  charms'?"  I  asked,  for  never  but 
once  did  she  look  fairer.  Truly  she  was 
the  beauty  of  San  Juan — one  of  the 
most  beautiful  women  in  the  world,  as 
I  knew  later  after  I  had  traveled. 

Her  artlessness  was  supreme. 

"Ah,  we  do  not  fear  until  we  have 
something  to  lose,  and  I  do  not  wish  to 
lose  you." 

"You  fear  I  will  not  be  strong  enough 

85 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

to  resist  their  charms?"  I  asked.  "You 
must  not  do  me  an  injustice." 

"No.  It  is  not  your  weakness,  only 
mine  I  was  considering,"  she  answered. 
"I  am  not  equal  to  them.  I  have  only 
the  training  of  this  little  Mission  town." 

"I  fear  only  Andrade's  influence  with 
your  father — and  an  opposition  too 
strong  for  you  to  long  resist,"  I  an- 
swered. 

"I  hope  and  trust  for  the  best.  Do 
you  not  think  it  possible?"  she  asked, 
anxiously. 

"I  hope  it  is,"  I  answered.  Were  I 
your  opponent  I  know  how  quickly  I 
would  yield." 

"If  they  were  all  like  you,"  she  mur- 
mured softly,  "but  they  are  not.  There 
is  only  one  Juan  Fernandez  and  he  is 

86 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

mine,  if  some  one  in  Spain  does  not 
steal  him  from  me." 

''They  will  not,"  I  said,  happily. 

Then,  abruptly  changing  her  mood, 
she  began : 

"Here  is  a  little  book  for  you  to  read 
while  you  are  away." 

Eeceiving  it  from  her  hands,  I  asked, 
44 Have  you  read  it?" 

"Yes,"  and  then  said  archly,  "Would 
you  like  to  know  its  contents?" 

I  nodded  a  yes  in  answer. 

"They  are  love  sonnets,"  she  replied, 
laughing.  "You  know  you  must  begin 
to  learn  to  love." 

"Learn!"  I  said.  "I  have  known 
how  since  first  I  met  you." 

She  laughed  carelessly.  "Shall  I  read 
one?"  she  queried. 

"No.    Not  here,"  I  said.    "It  is  too 

87 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

dark  with  moonlight  only  lighting  the 
page." 

"Ah,  no,"  she  pleaded,  sweetly;  "my 
memory  nearly  recalls  their  lines  and 
the  moon  will  lend  its  magic  to  the 
words." 

She  stood  gracefully  in  the  moon- 
light, and  resting  one  hand  lightly  on 
my  shoulder,  and  holding  the  book 
majestically  with  the  other,  read  one  of 
those  rare  old  Portuguese  love  son- 
nets, which  I  could  but  inaccurately 
give  in  English.  The  charm  of  her  so- 
norous tones,  the  witchery  of  her  man- 
ner, and  that  rare  magnetism  of  per- 
sonality requisite  to  the  success  of  all 
great  actresses,  made  the  lines  doubly 
effective.  As  she  completed  I  cried : 

"Ah,  what  beauty  of  Spain  could  win 
me  while  I  see  you  standing  before  me 

88 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

—reading — in  the  memory  of  this 
night ?" 

She  answered  with  a  smile. 

"If  your  love  depends  upon  your 
ability  to  express  it,  you  need  no  les- 
sons, Juan,"  she  said. 

And  I  did  not.  Love-making  is  as  old 
as  the  world  and  requires  no  teaching. 

The  dance  was  nearly  finished.  Our 
meeting  was  almost  at  a  close  and  the 
parting  scene  was  then  enacted. 

"How  I  fear  to  leave  you,"  I  sighed. 

"No,  no,"  she  answered.  "A  wom- 
an's wiles  may  win  against  a  man's 
strong  will,  and  I  shall  win.  Have  no 
fear,  Juan.  My  father  cannot  refuse 


me.' 


What  courage  one  small  sentence 
sometimes  gives  a  mortal,  and  how  long 
in  Spain  I  lived  in  hope  upon  that  one ! 

89 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

During  that  entire  scene  we  seemed 
transported  to  another  world — where 
fear,  and  all  the  annoyances  of  life  on 
this  planet  were  missing.  Such  is  the 
power  of  Cupid  when  he  chooses  to  ex- 
ercise his  prerogative. 

The  transformation  of  Dolores  had 
lasted  but  a  moment — ours  was  of 
scarcely  longer  duration — but  the  mem- 
ory of  that  night  will  last  forever. 

We  parted,  and  I  left  her  watching 
in  the  moonlight  until  I  was  lost  to  view. 
And  I  doubt  not  that,  heavy-hearted, 
she  listened  intently  to  hear  the  last 
echoing  clatter  of  my  steed's  footsteps. 


90 


CHAPTER   VI. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


ANY  times  in  the  long  years 
that  have  passed  since  that 
night  have  I  risen,  restless, 
from  my  couch,  saddled  my 
steed  and  ridden  again  at  a 
mad  gallop  through  the 
valley,  trying  in  vain  to 
live  again  those  days  when  hope,  at 
least,  sustained  my  courage.  The  val- 
ley and  the  mountains  alone  remain 
unchanged.  I  have  outlived  my  time. 
Even  the  Mission  is  in  ruins.  Much 
of  the  world  have  I  seen  in  my 
travels,  but  it  would  be  difficult  to  find 
a  more  beautiful  valley.  Its  entire  at- 

93 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

mosphere  is  suggestive  of  peace,  rest 
and  quietude.  It  is  a  great,  smooth 
plain  that  matches  in  the  summer  the 
dull  color  of  the  adobe,  and  in  the  win- 
ter the  shadowy  green  of  velvet,  stretch- 
ing in  undulating  mounds  in  all  direc- 
tions until  it  reaches  the  encircling 
mountains  on  the  one  side  and  beyond 
the  range  of  human  sight  to  the  sea  on 
the  other. 

I  have  seen  it  in  a  thousand  different 
moods.  I  have  often  seen  the  rugged 
base  of  that  great  range  splashed  with 
gigantic  shadows  of  the  snow-white, 
spotless  clouds  that  cling  and  hover  half 
way  up  the  canyons,  and  above  the 
clouds  the  bright  sun  flashing  upon  a 
series  of  snow-capped  peaks,  and  all 
around,  a  great  blue  sea  of  immensity 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

engulfing  the  world — the  matchless  sky 
of  California. 

Again  I  have  seen  it  when  some 
strange  alchemy  of  the  air  has  touched 
the  eastern  peaks  and  bathed  them  first 
in  painted  torrents  of  red  and  yellow, 
gloriously  bright,  lighting  each  little 
canyon,  its  trees  and  all  the  scars  of  the 
days  of  the  avalanche  to  view.  And  as 
the  dying  sun  moved  on,  its  rays,  linger- 
ing, kissed  the  shadows  with  soft  shades 
of  pink  that  blended  into  lavender  and 
then  to  purple  in  the  deepest  ravines. 
The  sky,  no  longer  blue,  took  on  at  north 
and  south  a  somber  color  like  the  min- 
gled white  and  gray  of  ashes.  The  hues 
of  day  faded  one  by  one,  the  world 
slowly  vanishing  before  the  observer's 
gaze. 

Slowly  through  the  gloom  of  night 

95 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

the  eye  catches  the  gleam  of  a  star — yel- 
low and  motionless.  Long  as  you  watch 
it  there  is  no  movement — only  an  occa- 
sional disappearance  as  though  some 
great  night  bird  had  passed  before  it. 
Higher,  after  a  time,  another  star  ap- 
pears— a  white  star — and  slowly,  one 
by  one,  others  appear.  The  yellow  star 
was  a  light  shining  in  some  cabin  half 
way  up  the  range.  How  high  the  moun- 
tains seem  at  night !  Then  a  faint  glow 
dimly  outlines  the  rugged  peaks,  and, 
silhouetted  against  a  narrow  mass  of 
glowing,  seething  color,  a  giant  pine 
stands  sentinel  over  the  valley.  Quickly 
the  color  changes  and  the  full  moon,  ris- 
ing over  the  horizon,  like  a  silent  snow- 
storm, bathes  the  world  in  white. 

And  on  such  a  night  I  took  my  leave 
of  Capistrano. 

96 


Door  of  the  Chapel  at  Capistrano 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

the  eye  eatches  the  gleam  of  a  star — yel- 

and  motionless.  Long  as  you  watch 
it  there  is  no  movement — only  an  occa- 
sional disappearance  as  though  some 

at  night  bird  had  passed  before  it. 

inother  star  ap- 
star — and  slowly,  o 
by  one,  others  appear.    TV 
was  a  light  shining  in  some  cabin  half 
way  up  the  range.    How  high  the  moun- 
tains seem  at  night!    Then  a  faint  glow 

idy  outlines  the  rugged  peaks,  and, 
silhouetted  agav 

glowing,  ne 

stands  sentinel  over  the  valley.  Quickly 
the  color  changes  and  the  full  moon,  ris- 
ing over  the  horizon,  like  a  silent  snow- 
storm, bathes  the  world  in  white. 

And  on  such  a  night  I  took  my  leave 
of  Capistrano. 

96 


CHAPTER   VII. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HE  next  scenes  I  can  only 
recount  as  they  were  told  to 
me,  in  part,  by  Rosa,  parti)' 
by  Dolores  and  by  De  Mof- 
ras,  or  by  Mariana. 

After  I  left,  Padre  Ma- 
teo,  the  Mission  father  for 
whom  Mariana  had  an  adoring  respect, 
found  her  alone  in  the  garden. 

"Ah/'  he  said,  shaking  his  finger 
roguishly  at  her,  "I  have  found  the  run- 
away at  last.  It  was  always  your  habit 
when  a  mere  child  to  lurk  in  some  out 
of  the  way  and  hidden  corner." 
There  was  no  one  so  influential  with 

90 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

Mariana  as  Padre  Mateo,  nor  would  she 
listen  to  any  advice  until  she  had  the 
sanction  of  his  older  experience.  It  was 
therefore  with  a  feeling  of  great  relief 
that  she  saw  him  approaching. 

"Oh,  padre, "  she  said  as  she  rose  and 
went  to  greet  him,  "I  am  more  than 
glad  you  have  come.  You  are  the  only 
one  to  whom  I  can  look  for  advice.  I 
know  you  can  help  me  now.  You  must." 

It  was  the  same  trusting  spirit  she 
had  always  exhibited  in  her  childhood 
and  so  unlike  her  reserved  latter-day 
moods  that  the  padre  was  happy. 

"My  Mariana  must  have  no  secrets 
from  me,"  he  said  graciously.  "What 
is  it?" 

"No,  Padre,  I  am  the  inquisitor,"  she 

answered,  and  then,  pausing  blushingly, 

100 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

she  asked,  "Do  you   believe   in   love, 
padre?" 

The  padre  paused  and  sought  mental- 
ly the  purpose  of  her  question  before 
answering.  A  hasty  answer  to  the  im- 
petuous Mariana  might  be  dangerous  to 
her.  Therefore,  like  the  oracles  of  an- 
cient Greece,  he  answered,  evasively: 

"I  have  grown  to  be  somewhat  of  a 
philosopher  in  this  new  country  and  I 
have  nearly  concluded  that  sentiments 
do  not  exist — of  any  character — unless 
we  in  our  own  minds  conclude  that  we 
need  them.  Thus,  when  in  youth  we 
long  for  the  spiritual  unknown  we  call 
that  love — in  old  age,  religion — and  1 
have  reached  the  latter  stage." 

Mariana  was  silent.    Then  she  asked : 

"Did  you  never  believe  in  the 
other?" 

101 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

•"Certainly,"  replied  Padre  M'ateo, 
"or  I  could  not  have  correctly  answered 
your  former  question," 

Mariana  sighed.  From  Padre  Mateo 
she  had  hoped  to  obtain  some  solution 
to  her  problem  and  one  in  accordance 
with  her  desires. 

"  Padre,  I  love  Juan  Fernandez. 
Father  will  have  me  married  to  none 
but  Senor  Andrade.  I  cannot  do  it 
when  I  love  Juan  only,  and  it  would  not 
be  right,  would  it,  when  I  feel  so?" 

Here,  indeed,  was  a  difficult  question 
for  the  padre  to  answer,  in  view  of  the 
different  personalities  connected  with 
the  decision.  While  Sauceda  and  An- 
drade were  led  by  selfish  desires,  Padre 
Mateo  saw  only  in  Mariana's  course  a 
too  strong  liking  for  the  physical 
charms  of  life  in  the  child  he  had  found 

102 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

so  richly  endowed  with  the  spiritual  na- 
ture. In  his  goodness  of  heart  he 
ascribed  virtues  to  Sauceda  and  An- 
drade  they  only  pretended  to  possess. 
Therefore  he  couched  his  speech  care- 
fully before  he  answered. 

"It  is  not  always,  Mariana,  that 
which  we  desire  in  this  world  that  is 
best  for  us,  nor  what  seems  right  to  us 
when  young  that  is  right  for  us  to  do. 
Wisdom  and  control  of  desires  come 
with  age.  Your  father  may  consider 
matters  you  have  neglected  to  consider. 
Andrade  has  learned  the  wisdom  of  ex- 
perience. Young  Fernandez,  with  all 
Ms  attractions,  has  only  the  hasty,  im- 
petuous spirit  of  youth.  The  one  has 
learned  the  benefits  of  religion — the 
other  is  tasting  the  forbidden  fruits." 

"Ah,  Padre  Mateo,"  she   answered, 

103 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"you  are  failing  me.  I  have  come  to 
you  at  last  for  advice  upon  a  subject  of 
which  you  know  nothing.  Old  age  does 
not  always  understand  youth." 

The  padre  smiled  at  her  reproof. 

"Old  age  generally  understands 
youth,  my  daughter,  but  youth  rarely 
ever  understands  old  age." 

Continuing,  he  added: 

"No,  my  child,  do  not  allow  your  de- 
sires to  overcome  your  better  judgment. 
Remember  that  we  are  all  mortal  and 
more  likely  to  err  than  not.  This  is  the 
test  you  must  put  to  yourself — con- 
science— and  in  doing  so,  consider  first 
if  you  have  had  any  misgivings  at  the 
thought  of  disobeying  your  father's  ad- 
vice. Have  you  not,  deep  in  your  heart, 
experienced  such  misgivings?" 

104 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

4 'Of  course,  padre,"  she  answered, 
"who  would  not!" 

"And  you  must  also  consider  justice. 
Suppose,  my  child,  you  were  the  parent 
and  your  child  desired  to  act  contrary 
to  your  wishes,  when  you  were  acting  in 
your  maturer  judgment  for  her  best  in- 
terests? What  would  your  emotions 
be  ?  I  cannot  describe  them,  but  that  is 
your  father's  position  now.  Harsh  as 
he  may  seem,  I  have  no  doubt  he  be- 
lieves he  is  acting  for  the  best  This 
conscience,  Mariana,  is  God's  guide  that 
enables  us  to  distinguish  right  from 
wrong,  and  you  must  follow  it.  The 
Church  points  out  to  us  those  broad 
principles  that  have  been  revealed  and 
that  its  followers  have  learned  are 
best." 

There  was  such  nobility  of  thought  in 

105 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

his  words  and  they  seemed  so  convinc- 
ing that  Mariana  could  give  no  ap- 
propriate answer.  She  was  lost  in 
thought.  Then,  in  a  sudden  outburst 
of  uncontrollable  emotion,  she  an- 
swered : 

"Padre,  sometimes;  it  seems  religion 
fails  completely.  It  changes  all  our 
plans  for  happiness." 

"True  happiness  lies  in  content- 
ment," answered  the  shocked  adviser. 
"If  we  only  appreciate  fully  the  bless- 
ings we  receive  we  have  no  time  for 
complaint  at  what  we,  in  our  blindness, 
may  consider  misfortunes.  You  must 
remember  we  are  only  the  children  of 
God  and  must  do  His  bidding  willingly. 
Through  your  conscience  He  guides 
you,  and  that  must  resolve  you — not 
your  desires." 

106 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

The  words  of  Padre  Mateo  were  so 
portentous  of  the  future  that  Mariana's 
despair  was  plainly  shown  in  her  fea- 
tures. 

"We  must  all  bear  the  cross,  my 
child,"  he  said,  kindly. 

And  Mariana  was  silent. 


107 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


ITH  what  strange  contrasts 
life  sometimes  fits  its  scenes 
together !  Scarcely  had 
Padre  Mateo  concluded 
those  ominous  and,  to  Mar- 
iana, leaden  words,  when 
the  dancers,  throbbing  with 
the  joyous  music  of  the  dance,  crowded 
their  way  into  the  garden,  their 
gay  costumes  and  merry  laughter  ap- 
pearing in  odd  contrast  to  the  previous 
scene.  They  failed  even  to  see  Mariana 
and  Padre  Mateo.  They  were  bent  upon 
a  plan  of  merriment  and  Rosa  was  alone 
the  object  of  interest. 
111 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

De  Mofras  was  pleading  with  her  to 
dance  one  of  the  Old  World  dances,  so 
different  from  the  Spanish  dances  of 
the  New  Spain.  And  she,  with  laugh- 
ing objections,  was  refusing.  And  now, 
added  to  his  demands,  was  that  of  the 
entire  party. 

4 'Yes,  yes,"  they  cried  in  unison,  and 
some  one  hastened  to  call  the  musicians. 
They  came  out  quickly  and  Rosa  gra- 
ciously consented. 

There  is  something  serpentine  in  the 
Spanish  form  that  yields  with  ever- 
changing  grace  to  every  response  the 
music  demands,  and  Rosa  was  a  mis- 
tress of  her  art.  Often  have  I  seen  her 
dance,  but  it  seems  that  on  that  night, 
with  De  Mofras,  her  lover,  present,  she 
surpassed  herself.  Perhaps  the  beauty 
of  the  night  added  to  the  effect,  and  the 
112 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

languorous  odors  from  the  near-by 
garden.  At  all  events  there  was  an  in- 
sistent demand  for  another  dance,  and 
once  again  she  captivated  them  with  her 
skill,  and,  ending  the  Seguidilla  in  one 
grand,  tempestuous  figure,  she  rushed, 
laughing  into  the  ballroom,  and,  stand- 
ing imperiously  within  the  doorway, 
cried : 

"Now  we  all  dance." 

And  with  their  characteristic  Span- 
ish enthusiasm  they  re-entered  and  the 
dance  began  again. 


113 


CHAPTER   IX. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HILE  Rosa  danced  Mariana 
remained  quietly  in  the 
background.  After  the  re- 
entrance  of  the  dancers, 
however,  the  watchful  Sau- 
ceda  noticed  her  absence 
and  entered  the  garden  in 
search  of  her.  He  paused  in  the 
doorway,  but  she  did  not  reveal  her 
presence.  The  father  peered  anxiously 
into  the  shadows  and  then  locating  her 
stepped  quickly  to  her  place  of  conceal- 
ment. He  spoke  cautiously,  for  anger 
was  not  the  proper  mood  for  this  inter- 
view. 

117 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 


"Not  dancing,  Mariana?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  she  answered  quietly  and  with- 
out anger. 

"  Thinking  of  Fernandez  f"  he  in- 
quired, guardedly. 

"That  is  a  useless  question,  father, " 
she  said  sadly,  in  a  tone  that  suggested 
the  interview  would  be  as  useless. 

"My  child,  I  expect  you  to  do  as  I 
have  advised  you." 

His  tone  was  so  conciliatory  and  dif- 
ferent from  his  accustomed  one  that 
courage  flashed  in  Mariana's  eyes  and 
she  was  again  hopeful.  She  imagined 
that  he  had  begun  to  regret  his  harsh 
commands,  and  plead  her  cause  with 
fervor. 

"Then  to  be  poor  is  not  to  be  free  in 
love !  I  believed  it  was  only  among  the 

118 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

nobility  that  marriage  for  rank  and 
wealth  was  necessary." 

"Not  where  the  poor  have  been  raised 
as  have  my  daughters,"  Sauceda  an- 
swered, "where  a  parent  has  deprived 
himself  to  take  pride  in  his  children.  I 
have  given  you  everything  in  my  power 
— have  reared  you  all  these  years — and 
you  do  not  consider  that  I  have  any 
right  to  plan  as  to  your  future.  You 
call  my  plans  of  marriage  dictation.  No, 
I  have  allowed  you  too  much  freedom, 
have  argued  with  you  too  often,  and  be- 
cause I  have  reasoned  with  you,  you  for- 
get that  my  word  is  and  should  be  au- 
thority." 

"Am  I  not  old  enough  to  be  reasoned 
with?"  she  asked,  earnestly.  "Surely 
some  time  you  would  wish  to  be  relieved 

119 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JTJAN 

of  responsibility  for  my  actions.    And 
has  not  that  time  arrived?" 

Sauceda  did  not  desire  to  argue. 

"  There  is  only  one  course  open  to  you, 
Mariana.  It  is  useless  to  repeat  to  you 
what  you  already  know — that  your 
training  has  not  been  one  calculated  to 
fit  you  in  this  New  World,  at  least,  so 
you  can  support  yourself.  At  the  pres- 
ent time  this  Fernandez  cannot  marry. 
He  is  too  poor.  I  am  no  longer  young, 
and  it  is  my  duty  to  see  my  children  set- 
tled in  life  before  it  is  too  late.  There- 
fore I  intend  you  shall  marry  Andrade, 
and  you  must  obey  me.  You  were  happy 
before  you  met  this  Fernandez  and  you 
can  forget  him  and  be  happy  again. 
Much  of  our  pleasure  consists  in  put- 
ting out  of  our  thoughts  that  which  is 
unpleasant." 

120 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"No,  one  cannot  do   those   things, '' 


said  Mariana,  mournfully.    "You  can- 
not turn  the  wine  back  into  grapes." 

This  was  unanswerable,  so  Sauceda 
said  harshly,  "We  will  have  no  more 
argument  on  the  subject.  You  can  and 
must  obey  my  command. ' ' 

Mariana  likewise  became  more  posi- 
tive. 

"Senor  Andrade  has  grown  old  in  the 
pursuit  of  pleasure,"  she  said.  "He 
lives  in  the  memory  of  the  past,  and  this 
barnacle  of  society  is  what  you  ask  me 
to  love.  You  would  chain  me,  young 
and  happy,  to  this  old  and  discontented 
man.  When  you  ask  all  this  I  cannot 
believe  you  are  thinking  of  my  happi- 
ness." 

"You  forget  that  I  am  your  father," 
reprimanded  Sauceda. 
121 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

The  reply  of  Mariana  was  a  rebuke 
that  angered  him  to  the  extreme  of  en- 
durance. 

"No,  but  I  fear  you  are  forgetting  I 
am  your  daughter  when  you  so  ruin  my 
future.  A  shepherd  who  deserts  his 
flock  is  no  longer  their  shepherd  and  a 
father  who  deserts  his  children  is  no 
longer  their  father." 

"We  will  soon  know  whether  that  is 
true  or  not  and  what  the  relationship 
of  daughter  means,"  he  cried.  It  was 
no  longer  a  rational  consideration  of  the 
difficulty  between  them,  but  it  had 
grown  through  anger  to  become  a  con- 
flict of  personalities  wherein  the  father 
at  all  costs  and  by  any  means  necessary, 
intended  to  conquer  the  daughter.  And 
she,  less  angry,  and  not  revengeful, 
122 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

sought  only  to  withstand  the  force  of 
his  indignation. 

"I  would  die  before  I  would  marry 
Andrade,"  she  said,  firmly. 

Sauceda  sneered.  "  It  is  only  cowards 
who  prefer  death  under  such  conditions, 
and  one  who  chooses  death  to  such  a 
marriage  can  easily  be  forced  into  sub- 
mission." 

"No.  We,  who  are  Spanish,  break, 
but  we  do  not  bend.  Have  you  lived  all 
these  years  and  so  fail  to  know  my  na- 
ture ?" 

"You  have  two  natures,"  he  an- 
swered. "The  one,  your  inherited 
Spanish  temperament — the  other  has 
been  acquired  from  the  Padre's  teach- 
ings. I  know  you  better  than  you  know 
yourself.  If  you  destroy  the  mortal  you 
lose  also  the  immortal.  The  Church  is 

123 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

the  wall  that  holds  you  from  yourself, 
The  future  is  more  to  be  feared  than 
the  present.  The  one  you  can  endure 
— the  other  is  everlasting." 

Well  informed  was  he  of  Mariana's 
nature,  and  well  did  he  know  how  deep- 
ly those  words  burned  into  her  mind. 
In  final  despair  she  cried : 

"Then  let  me  become  a  part  of  that 
Church.  I  can  forget  to  love  more  eas- 
ily than  I  can  learn  to  pretend  to  love/5 

"No.  Have  I  not  shown  you  that  I 
know  your  nature  better  than  you  your- 
self know  it?  My  demands  are  reason- 
able and  just,  and  you  must  obey  them." 
And  Sauceda  turned  to  go. 

"Father,"  she  cried,  holding  him 
back,  "who  was  my  mother?  Was  she 
chosen  for  you  because  of  your  parents' 
wishes,  or  did  you  love  her?" 

124 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

"I  thought  I  loved  her,"  he  answered, 
"and  I  suppose  I  did  then,  but  there 
is  only  one  time  for  loving,  as  there  is 
but  one  season  for  the  flowers  to  bloom. " 

"Here  they  bloom  always,"  said  Mar- 
iana, a  pathos  in  her  tones  that  would 
have  won  a  heart  less  harsh  than  Sau- 
ceda's. 

"So  they  do,"  he  answered,  "and  be- 
cause we  have  them  always  they  become 
common  and  we  tire  of  them.  I  will 
hear  no  more.  When  Senor  Andrade 
asks  you,  there  must  be  but  one  answer. 
Do  you  understand?" 

And  turning  on  his  heel  he  walked  ab- 
ruptly away. 


125 


CHAPTER  X. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ARIANA  remained  there, 
knowing  that  Andrade  must 
come,  and  knowing  that  she 
must  face  him. 

She  had  not  long  to  wait. 
Slipping  quietly  from  be- 
hind the  vines  that  covered 
one  side  of  the  patio,  Andrade  advanced 
and  spoke  with  a  forced  tone  of  indif- 
ference. 

"This   is  our  dance,  Mariana;  have 
you  forgotten  ?" 

"No,"  she  answered.    "Will  you  do 
me  the  favor  of  staying  here?"    And 

129 


IK  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

then,  in  uncompromising  manner,  con- 
tinued: "I  desire  to  talk  with  you." 

"What  have  you  to  say?"  asked  An- 
drade,  impatiently,  seeking  by  an  ab- 
rupt address  to  dishearten  her,  a  tactic 
often  employed  by  the  old  in  dealing 
with  inexperienced  young. 

Mariana  rose,  even  his  presence  being 
distasteful  to  her,  and  standing  a  short 
distance  from  him,  in  a  mood  not  far 
from  disdainful,  demanded,  "Will  it 
not  hurt  your  pride  to  obtain  by  force  a 
marriage  you  cannot  gain  by  reason  of 
your  own  personality?" 

Andrade  was  flattered.  She  admitted 
conquest? 

"No,"  he  answered.  "I  am  like  a 
hunter  who  finds  the  zest  of  hunting  in 
the  eager  chase.  I  may  find  a  way  to 
attract  you  later." 

130 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

"If  you  are  so  clever  why  have  you 
not  already  found  a  way?  No.  You 
have  spoken  to  my  father  and  he  has 
agreed.  I  have  not,"  was  Mariana's  re- 
tort. "Why  are  you  so  insistent?  Is 
it  only  because  I  am  unwilling  ?" 

"No,"  he  answered.  "Also  because 
you  are  beautiful." 

A  gleam  of  hope  leaped  into  her  eyes. 

* '  Beauty  is  easily  destroyed.  I  would 
destroy  mine  if  by  so  doing  I  could  cause 
you  to  forget  me." 

Andrade  laughed  carelessly.  "You 
told  your  father  you  would  die  before 
you  would  marry  me.  The  same  objec- 
tions appear  here.  Have  you  any  greater 
right  to  destroy  your  beauty  than  your 
life?" 

The  contempt  of  Mariana  knew  no 
bounds  as  she  realized  that  Andrade  had 

131 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

been  a  hidden  listener  during  the  con- 
troversy with  her  father. 

"Senor!"  she  said  with  amazement. 
"I  may  have  attributed  to  you  wrongly 
faults  you  do  not  possess,  but  I  did  at 
least  believe  you  to  be  a  gentleman.  You 
are  not  willing  to  fight  fairly.  You  have 
stooped  to  employ  deceit,  falsehood  and 
now,  even  spying,  to  gain  the  object  of 
your  ambition. " 

Andrade  was  speechless  before  her 
words  of  indignation.  She  continued : 

"Now,  just  at  the  time  when  I  feel 
everything  slipping  away  before  me — 
every  hope  upon  which  I  have  placed  my 
confidence — when  no  other  help  seems 
to  avail  me,  for  nature  has  not  made  me 
independent,  you  so  degrade  yourself 
by  the  methods  you  have  employed  that 
my  failing  courage  is  revived,  and,  fear- 

132 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

less  of  all  the  consequences,  I  give  you 
my  answer.  No." 

Then,  the  full  majesty  of  her  out- 
raged feelings  showing  in  her  actions, 
she  left  Andrade  standing  in  the  garden 
and  hid  herself  in  her  own  room.  A  few 
minutes  later,  Dolores,  entering,  saw  her 
standing  by  the  window  that  looked  to 
the  sea,  the  last  of  the  old  life  passing 
away  as  she  murmured : 

"I  feel  as  though  life  was  ended. 
Juan,  the  ship  that  is  carrying  you  to 
Spain  cannot  separate  us  so  quickly  as 
the  simple  turning  of  words. " 

And  she  swooned  away  before  Do- 
lores could  reach  her. 


133 


CHAPTER   XI. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


T  was  to  be  expected  that 
Mariana  would  not  yield 
without  a  struggle,  nor  did 
Andrade  hope  to  effect  his 
purpose  in  one  or  even  two 
such  interviews.  Patiently 
he  and  Sauceda  pursued 
their  game,  for  with  their  knowledge  of 
human  nature  they  knew  that  eventually 
she  must  yield.  Her  environment,  her 
nature,  her  training — and  all  the  cir- 
cumstances attending — made  it  impos- 
sible for  her  to  accept  any  other  solu- 
tion than  the  one  they  offered,  unless 
she  could  in  some  way  persuade  either 

137 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

Andrade  or  her  father  to  change  their 
intentions.  Therein  lay  her  only  hope. 
In  every  way  during  the  long  months 
that  .followed  this  eventful  evening  the 
question  was  broached  and  forced  upon 
her.  At  last  Andrade,  who,  though  not 
clever,  was  cunning,  after  he  had  at 
great  length  catalogued  his  list  of  vices 
and  faults  as  he  judged  Mariana  saw 
them,  pretended  to  throw  himself  upon 
her  mercy  and  sought  her  pity  for  his 
weaknesses,  adding  that  with  her  help 
he  might  reform — that  his  despair  at 
being  unable  to  gain  her  admiration  and 
love  was  the  prime  cause  of  all  his  faults 
— and  that  she  could  be  his  guardian 
angel  and  save  his  soul. 

His  scheme  was  Machiavelian  and  the 
artifice,  while  not  sufficient  of  itself,  was 
the  guiding  wedge,  so  that  finally,  un- 

138 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

able  longer  to  resist  the  opposition  and 
commands  of  her  father,  she  was  per- 
suaded that  doubtless  there  was  some 
unknown  purpose  moving  the  forces 
that  encompassed  her.  The  shadow  of 
San  Juan  was  moving  closer  and  she 
was  chilled  in  spirit.  Unable  to  do  oth- 
erwise, she  yielded. 

How  different  seemed  the  world  to 
each  of  us  a  few  days  after  that  night 
I  left  her.  She  had  begun  to  know  the 
truth,  to  realize  that  what  did  finally 
happen  was  inevitable.  And  if  she 
thought  of  me  it  was  with  sadness  and 
regret.  I  at  the  same  time  was  sailing 
out  of  sisrht  of  the  land  from  which  I 
was  absent  nearly  three  years.  All  was 
hopeful  with  me,  for  it  is  the  nature  of 
youth  to  be  hopeful.  The  splashing  of 
the  waves,  the  bright  flashing  gleam  of 

139 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

sunlight  on  the  water,  the  peaceful 
mountains  in  the  background  and  the 
glorious  sky,  flawless  as  a  rare  tur- 
quoise, above,  all  seemed  part  of  a  great 
symphony  of  hope  that  urged  me  on  to 
Spain — to  success  and  to  happiness. 
Long  I  watched  the  shore  until  the  last 
familiar  object  was  lost  to  view — even 
the  mountains  could  be  no  longer  seen, 
only  a  long,  slender  line  of  golden  yel- 
low that  told  where,  in  the  limitless  Pa- 
cific, the  shores  of  California  lay.  For 
in  those  days  the  golden  poppies 
bloomed  from  sea  to  mountains  and  at 
that  season  of  the  year — in  all  their 
glory — the  copas  de  oros,  or  cups  of 
gold,  painted  the  land  with  such  bril- 
liant color  that  it  could  be  seen  at  sea 
miles  further  than  at  other  months. 


140 


CHAPTER   XII. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

HREE  years  passed  and  in 
that  time  happened  many 
details  of  this  family  his- 
tory. Mariana  had  yielded 
to  influence  and  married 
Andrade,  and  after  the 
death  of  Sauceda  they  re- 
moved to  San  Diego.  The  French 
plans  of  Empire  had  come  to  naught, 
and  Rosa  was  to  this  time  single,  though 
De  Mof ras  paid  court  in  a  half-hearted 
way. 

Mariana's  existence  during  this  pe- 
riod was  a  series  of  detailed  annoyances 
that  dazed  her  spirit,  for  Andrade  was 

143 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

almost  constantly  drunk  and  almost 
constantly  brutal.  Her  appearance  and 
bearing,  therefore,  was  far  different 
from  what  it  had  been  in  those  happier 
days,  and  she  had  more  the  appearance 
of  one  who  submits  to  sorrow  as  a  por- 
tion of  human  existence  sent  for  a  pur- 
pose. Eosa  was  her  constant  compan- 
ion and  sole  consolation,  for  Padre  Ma- 
teo  was  no  longer  near  her.  Far  re- 
moved as  she  was  from  her  beloved  Mis- 
sion, the  shadow  of  San  Juan  was  still 
upon  her  and  was  to  be  always  present. 
Having  completed  my  business  in 
Spain  and  gained  my  estates,  and  being 
then  free  to  return  and  shape  my  own 
destiny,  I  sailed  for  California.  Dur- 
ing this  long  period  I  heard  no  word 
from  Mariana,  for  my  letters  to  her 

144 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

were  intercepted  and  she  knew  not 
where  to  reach  me. 

In  those  days  the  ships  carried  not 
only  passengers  but  cargo,  and  we  ar- 
rived in  the  beautiful  harbor  of  San 
Diego  prepared  for  a  stay  of  several 
days  to  unload  and  take  on  supplies. 

I  had  planned  to  ride  to  Capistrano 
and  thus  avoid  the  delay,  but  at  San 
Diego  the  fame  of  Andrade's  entertain- 
ing was  on  every  tongue,  and  I  learned 
for  the  first  time,  also,  of  the  marriage. 

With  what  force  were  my  hopes  shat- 
tered and  the  sunniest  sky  in  the  world 
was  not  bright  to  me.  That  same  night 
Andrade  was  giving  the  fifth  in  a  series 
of  famous  banquets  to  some  of  his  new 
found  friends, — Eicardo  Rafael,  Ra- 
mon Ruiz  and  Miguel  Enriquez,  and  the 
ever-present  Frenchman,  De  Mofras. 

145 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

For  ladies,  Miguel's  sister,  Kachel  En~ 
riquez;  Concepcion  Flores  and  Mer- 
cedes Granada — in  all  a  very  brilliant 
company  of  pleasure-lovers. 

I  did  not  know  that  I  should  figure 
at  that  dinner  when  first  I  heard  of  it, 
nor  did  I  know  that  some  day  I  would 
know  so  well  all  of  its  details,  but  I 
learned  them  later  from  De  Mof ras. 

The  dinner  opened  gayly,  and  though 
long,  seemed  much  too  short  to  the 
guests,  as  evidenced  by  Rachel's  re- 
mark: 

"  What  a  pity  so  fine  a  banquet  should 
be  so  nearly  at  an  end!" 

Her  brother  spoke  with  amusing  sar- 
casm of  his  petite  and  more  than  usually 
dainty  sister.  "Senor  Andrade,  may 
Rachel  have  another  duck?  She  always 

146 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

brings  capacity  enough  for  two  din- 
ners.'1 

" Miguel!"  And  Rachel  pouted  re- 
proachfully. 

"The  best  part  of  the  dinner  is  here 
now,"  spoke  up  Ramon  Ruiz. 

Rafael  was  interested. 

"The  wine?"  he  asked. 

'  *  Yes.  Where  did  you  get  it  f  "  asked 
Ruiz,  draining  his  glass  with  delight. 

Andrade  paused,  drained  his  glass, 
and  then  smiled. 

"My  wife  had  the  good  fortune  to  be 
the  daughter  of  Sauceda,  a  wine  maker 
at  Capistrano.  The  wine  was  part  of 
the  estate  when  he  died.  As  he  often 
said,  he  knew  his  business." 

Ruiz  drained  another  glass. 

"He  certainly  did,"  he  answered,  ap- 

147 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

provingly.  * '  Did  you  marry  Senora  An- 
drade  with  a  view  to  the  wine?" 

"Certainly,"  chuckled  Andrade. 

There  was  a  pause  after  that  remark, 
interrupted  by  Mercedes  Granada. 

"It  is  unfortunate  Senora  did  not  at- 
tend the  banquet." 

"Yes,"  answered  Rachel  Enriquez. 
k<  Particularly  since  it  has  taken  her 
charming  sister,  Senorita  Rosa,  from 
Monsieur 's  presence. ' ' 

The  Frenchman  had  consumed 
enough  wine  to  accept  any  remark  in 
good  humor,  so  he  answered : 

"You  have  temporarily  been  capable 
of  taking  her  place."  He  was  ever 
ready-witted. 

Rachel  looked  at  him  demurely. 

"You  are  very  fickle,  Monsieur  de 
Mofras,  a  pretty  face  has  the  same  ef- 

148 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

feet  upon  your  wit  as  a  ray  of  light  has 
upon  the  wine  in  this  glass. "  And  she 
held  the  shining  glass  of  red  wine  be- 
fore her. 

"Senorita  Rachel  lays  claim  to  a 
pretty  face,  Andrade.  What  is  your 
judgment?"  asked  Ramon  Ruiz. 

"  Quite  right.  Quite  right.  I  have 
none  other  than  pretty  faces  at  my  fes- 
tive board, "  answered  the  host. 

Concepcion  Flores  looked  pacified. 
"It  is  well  you  added  that,  Senor  An- 
drade," she  said.  "Senorita  Mercedes 
and  I  were  casting  jealous  glances  at 
Rachel." 

Andrade  answered  with  gusto : 

"You  are  as  beautiful  a  trio  as  the 
three  goddesses  whom  Paris  was  called 
upon  to  judge." 

This  speech,  conveying  a  veiled  insult 

149 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

to  Senora  Andrade,  surprised  Ricardo 
Rafael,  and  he  hastened  to  remark : 

'  *  Has  Senor  forgotten  his  wife  ?  Has 
not  Senora  Andrade  some  claim  to 
beauty  f" 

" Perhaps  she  is  growing  old,"  sug- 
gested Concepcion  Plores  with  the  nat- 
ural temper  of  a  woman  referring  to 
one  she  dislikes.  Mariana  had  no  lik- 
ing for  these  entertainments  where  all 
so  forgot  their  better  natures  as  to  be- 
come boisterously  drunk,  and,  gilded  as 
they  were  with  clever  speech  and  bril- 
liant surroundings,  there  was  nothing 
about  them  that  could  appeal  or  attract, 
for  she  could  see  only  too  well  in  the 
features  of  Andrade  the  result  of  his 
long  life  of  dissipation  and  excitement. 
And  it  was  partly  with  a  spirit  of  ag- 
gravation that  Andrade  was  making  so 

150 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

great  a  display  of  his  hospitality,  know- 
ing its  effect  on  Mariana.  But  evil  as 
the  effects  of  such  a  life  might  have 
been  on  Andrade,  the  continual  unhap- 
piness  of  her  condition  worked  far  more 
havoc  on  Mariana,  for  the  mental  ill- 
nesses are  far  quicker  in  their  destruc- 
tion than  the  physical,  because  in  the 
latter  strength  of  mind  may  effect  a 
cure,  but  in  the  former  the  body,  de- 
prived of  its  guiding  power,  soon  fails. 
Mariana  had  changed  greatly.  Not  that 
she  was  less  beautiful,  but  her  beauty 
was  of  another  character.  The  two  na- 
tures her  father  had  ascribed  to  her 
were  transposed.  Where  once  the  youth- 
ful fire  of  Spanish  ancestry  was  upper- 
most, now  that  other  nature,  acquired 
by  training  and  from  the  Mission,  held 
sway.  She  was  not  less  beautiful  except 

151 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

to  those  whose  standard  of  beauty  was 
physical.  That  this  was  true  was  evi- 
denced by  Andrade's  remark: 

"I  have  ceased  trying  to  worship  a 
living  saint  and  fulfill  her  expecta- 
tions." 

Mercedes  Granada  made  a  gesture  of 
finality. 

"  There,  Senor  Andrade,  you  have 
given  the  reason  for  your  wife's  loss  of 
beauty.  To  be  good  is  to  be  homely.  Not 
that  one  should  be  wholly  bad — but  a 
little  wickedness  is  always  an  attrac- 
tion." 

She  paused  and  then  asked : 

"Is  Senora  always  at  her  prayers, 
Senor?  Is  there  no  way  you  can  per- 
suade her  to  entertain  us?" 

"We  do  not  care  to  hear  her  read 
from  religious  works,"  said  Concepcion 

152 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

Flores,  looking  bored  and  shrugging  her 
shoulders. 

Andrade  smiled  diplomatically  before 
replying. 

6  '  I  have  some  books  in  my  library  that 
could  scarcely  be  called  religious,"  he 
said. 

At  this  remark,  far  from  being  list- 
less, she  was  greatly  interested,  and 
said: 

"Then  let  us  put  that  theory  Mercedes 
has  just  presented  into  practice,  and  see 
if  a  touch  of  wickedness  can  make 
Senora  Andrade  attractive.-' 

Miguel  Enriquez  was  not  so  drunk 
nor  so  brutal  as  the  others,  and  he  in- 
terceded with  Andrade. 

"But  Senora  is  not  well.  You  do  not 
mean  to  show  a  lack  of  sympathy  ?" 

Concepcion  laughed  heartily  at  the 

153 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

reproof,  and  looked  at  him  with  good- 
natured  contempt. 

"Ah,  Miguel/'  she  said,  " we  all  know 
how  convenient  it  is  at  times  to  be  ill. 
Senora  Andrade,  doubtless,  is  no  excep- 
tion. " 

"It  will  probably  make  her  show  her 
temper,"  said  Ramon  Ruiz  with  glee. 
They  were  all  in  the  plot  now.  It  is  as 
natural  to  mortal  greed  to  injure  and 
destroy  that  which  surpasses  it  as  it  is 
for  the  higher  nature  to  seek  to  uplift 
and  draw  unto  itself  the  lower.  An- 
drade, though  he  fretted  under  the  re- 
straint Mariana's  nature  seemed  to  im- 
pose upon  him,  and  notwithstanding  he 
even  carried  to  the  extreme  limit  the 
enjoyment  of  his  disapproved  pleasures, 
had  days  when  from  reaction  his  nature 
was  completely  changed.  At  these  times 

154 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

he  saw  and  appreciated  the  qualities  he 
now  sought  to  ridicule  in  his  wife. 
Therefore  he  not  only  did  not  care  to 
force  matters  to  so  decided  an  issue,  but 
he  feared  that  her  superior  nature 
would  enable  her  to  prevail  in  the  con- 
test, and  he  was  dubious. 

"No,"  he  answered.  "She  has  every 
attribute  of  the  saint  save  one — for  she 
still  lives.  Her  manner  is  most  exasper- 
ating. She  will  doubtless  prove  to  be  a 
very  dull  entertainer." 

Mercedes  Granada  did  not  intend  the 
plot  to  fail. 

"She  will  not  be  uninteresting  if  you 
manage  her  rightly,  Senor.  Find  a  book 
and  then  call  your  saintly  wife  to  read. 
We  are  growing  impatient." 

Ramon  Ruiz  protested  also. 

155 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

" Shall  I  help  you  to  decide?"  he 
asked. 

At  the  thought  of  anyone  being  able 
to  suggest  to  this  master  of  the  dis- 
agreeable anything  more  awful  than  he 
himself  could  choose,  Concepcion  Mores 
became  hilarious  with  amusement.  Then, 
controlling  herself,  she  said : 

"No.  His  taste  is  sufficiently  villain- 
ous. What  have  you  decided  upon, 
Senor  Andrade?" 

"You  will  look  among  the  French 
authors,  Senor?"  suggested  De  Mofras. 

Andrade  rose.  "A  clever  guess,"  he 
said.  "What  shall  it  be,  Senorita  Mer- 
cedes?" And  the  host  paused  un- 
steadily. 

Senorita  Mercedes  Granada  laughed 
mischievously  as  she  answered: 

"Paul  and  Virginia,  Senor?" 

156 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

At  her  reference  to  this  gem  of  inno- 
cence all  the  guests  laughed.  The  de- 
mure manner  in  which  she  said  it  caused 
them  to  believe  for  the  moment  she 
spoke  seriously. 

"That  is  not  new,"  answered  An- 
drade.  We  must  have  a  classic.  Sup- 
pose it  is — "  and  he  paused  as  he  moved 
toward  the  bookcase. 

Mercedes  Granada  was  impatient. 

"What  is  it,  Senor?  Why  do  you 
tantalize  us?  Because  you  enjoy  that 
privilege  with  Senora  Andrade  you 
must  not  conclude  we  will  be  so  good- 
natured." 

Andrade  did  not  respond,  and  Con- 
cepcion  Flores  pouted. 

Turning  from  the  case,  Andrade  held 
before  him  a  book.  "Manon  Lescaut," 
he  said,  "and  unexpurgated." 

157 


JN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

There  was  a  pause.  Even  that  blase 
body  was  shocked. 

" Would  we  dare  to  listen  to  that?" 
asked  Concepcion  Flores,  timidly. 

Their  modesty  lasted  but  a  moment 
and  a  wave  of  laughter  dispelled  the  em- 
barrassment. 

"Senorita  Concepcion  considers  a  lit- 
tle goodness  an  attraction/'  said  De 
Mofras.  "She  is  not  like  Mercedes. " 

"No,"  retorted  the  latter.  "And  yet 
I  remember  that  I  hesitated  to  read  that 
book  though  I  was  locked  tightly  in  my 
room  with  all  my  draperies  tightly 
drawn.  But  I  read  it — and  if  Senora 
Andrade  consents  to  read  from  it,  we 
certainly  can  listen,  for  we  do  not  pre- 
tend to  the  saintliness  of  Senora." 

"She  may  not  know  enough  concern- 

158 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

ing  the  book  to  refuse/'  suggested  De 
Mofras. 

"  Ignorance  is  not  always  innocence, 
however,"  said  Rachel  Enriquez  with 
considerable  spirit. 

De  Mofras  laughed  carelessly  before 
taking  another  glass  of  wine.  "You 
women,"  he  said,  "take  the  same  pleas- 
ure in  tormenting  another  woman  and 
tearing  her  reputation  to  pieces  that  a 
man  takes  in  the  hunt.  You  infer,  it 
would  seem,  that  Senora's  piety  is  all 
pretence." 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  "But  we  use 
more  delicate  weapons.  Some  of  our 
most  beautiful  phrases  are  only  jeweled 
daggers." 

Ramon  Ruiz  interrupted.  "We  are 
about  to  witness  a  family  battle,"  he 
said.  "Gentlemen,  let  us  see  how  able 

159 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

a  general  Andrade  is  in  his  own  house- 
hold." 

"You  misunderstand  me,"  said  An- 
drade. "I  have  not  had  a  refusal  from 
Senora.  In  fact,  I  have  not  commanded 
her  to  be  present.  Should  I  do  so  she 
would  not  refuse.  I  did  not  compel  her 
because  I  was  assured  her  presence 
would  mar  the  pleasure  of  the  evening." 

"Confidence  is  always  supreme  before 
a  fall,  Senor,"  said  Concepcion  Flores, 
tauntingly.  "You  have  not  commanded 
her  presence.  Is  it  because  you  fear  she 
will  not  come?" 

"No,"  he  answered,  and  rang  for  Pe- 
dro. Upon  the  entry  of  that  dignitary 
of  the  household,  he  thundered  out : 

"Call  Senora  Andrade,  and  tell  her 
I  command  her  immediate  presence — 
without  fail." 

160 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

There  was  a  stifling  air  of  suppressed 
excitement  over  the  company  as  Pedro 
left  to  execute  Andrade's  command.  It 
was  that  element  of  doubt  that  doubly 
interests  one  in  the  result  of  such  con- 
flicts. 

Concepcion  Flores  voiced  one  of  her 
mental  queries  and  asked: 

"Why  do  you  continue  to  live  with 
Senora  when  you  so  dislike  her, 
Senor?" 

Andrade's  lips  turned  scornfully. 

" Because  I  like  to  annoy  her,"  he  re- 
plied. "  Divorces  are  not  easily  ob- 
tained— and  besides  I  like  to  punish  her 
because  she  has  no  affection  for  me.  I 
expect  her  younger  admirer  to  return 
from  Spain  soon  and  I  have  no  doubt  he 
will  find  her.  Then  I  shall  have  my  fun 
with  Senora  Andrade.  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha. 

161 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

I  shall  find  a  way  to  make  her  miserable 
then — far  more  miserable  than  I  have 
thus  far  made  her.  The  slightest  indis- 
cretion on  her  part,  or  his,  will  give  me 
the  opportunity." 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  entry  of 
Pedro. 

Had  Senora  refused  to  come  ? 

"What  is  it?"  shouted  Andrade  with 
anger  as  he  saw  Pedro  returning  alone. 

"Senora  will  be  here  presently,"  an- 
swered Pedro,  and  a  gentleman  has 
asked  to  see  Senora  Andrade." 

A  puzzled  look  came  over  the  crafty 
host's  face,  and  then  he  asked:  "What 
sort  of  a  man  is  he?" 

"Young  and  handsome  and  much  too 
European  to  have  long  been  here." 

"She  is  coming  here,"  said  Andrade, 
"Usher  him  in." 

162 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

Andrade  became  gay,  excited.  His 
joy,  like  that  of  Nero,  was  greatest  when 
it  had  for  its  object  the  misery  of  others. 

"Doubtless  this  is  her  young  ad- 
mirer," he  cried.  "And  if  that  be  true, 
he  is  just  in  time  for  the  first  act  of  this 
family  drama,  and,  who  knows,  may 
himself  appear  in  the  second  act." 

His  surmise  was  indeed  correct.  As 
he  finished  that  sentence,  I,  Juan  Fer- 
nandez, the  rival,  entered.  I  had  asked 
for  Senora  Andrade,  so,  turning  to  Pe- 
dro, I  said: 

"I  asked  for  Senora  Andrade." 

Andrade  answered  me.  Coming  cor- 
dially over,  he  greeted  me  graciously. 

'  *  Ah,  my  good  friend  Fernandez.  We 
will  be  friends  now,  I  trust.  You  have 
returned  from  ST>ain  in  excellent  health, 
I  see." 

1(53 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  trying  to  fathom 
the  purpose  of  his  good  humor. 

"Senora  will  be  delighted  to  see  you," 
he  said.  "I  wish  you  to  surprise  her. 
You  will  be  kind  enough  to  hide  behind 
that  screen  until  I  call  for  you  ?  Senora 
is  coming  to  read  for  us  presently." 

I  still  wondered  that  he  was  so 
friendly,  but  I  felt  it  best  to  acquiesce 
apparently,  and  I  retired  behind  the 
screen  where  T  could  see,  but,  myself,  be 
unseen. 

"Ah,  there  is  Senora,"  whispered 
Mercedes  Granada,  the  compelling 
majesty  of  Mariana's  presence  having 
for  the  moment  mastered  the  company. 
Slowly  she  entered,  Rosa  following. 
Pale,  dignified,  she  seemed  more  a 
statue  than  a  mortal,  and  one  could  not 
but  feel  the  spiritual  presence  she  pos- 

164 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

sessed,  so  lacking  in  the  other  members 
of  that  company.  They,  too,  felt  it, 
without  realizing  or  admitting  it,  except 
tacitly. 

Mariana  broke  the  silence. 

"You  sent  for  me,  Senor?" 

When  she  spoke  Andrade  was  himself 
again. 

"You  were  too  ill  to  come  before," 
he  said,  savagely.  "You  seem  able  to 
appear  now." 

Mariana  answered  quietly.  "You  did 
not  insist  before.  I  have  come  now  be- 
cause you  commanded." 

"You  have  been  praying?"  sneered 
Andrade. 

Controlling  her  feelings,  she  asked 
again : 

"Why  have  you  sent  for  me?" 

165 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"To  meet  my  guests  as  the  wife  of 
their  host/'  was  the  answer. 

She  spoke  without  feeling,  either  of 
anger  or  prejudice. 

"  Those  whom  I  have  met  I  do  not 
need  to  meet.  The  others  I  do  not  care 
to  meet." 

It  was  not  strange  that  so  gentle  a 
speech  should  be  misunderstood  and 
cause  such  surprise  to  the  guests,  who 
showed  it  plainly. 

"Indeed,"  ventured  Mercedes  Gran- 
ada, with  anger,  "if  you  do  not  entertain 
your  husband,  you  have  no  occasion  to 
object  to  our  presence." 

"I  did  not  say  that.  You  failed  to 
understand  me." 

"I  did  not  send  for  you  to  insult  my 
guests,"  shouted  Andrade,  hoarsely. 

166 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"I  have  told  your  guests  they  miscon- 
strued my  words,"  said  Mariana. 

"What  did  you  intend  by  your  re- 
marks, then?"  demanded  Andrade. 

"This  is  embarrassing,"  said  Ramon 
Ruiz.  "Senor  is  having  a  quarrelsome 
spell." 

"He  often  has  when  he  is  drunk," 
whispered  Mercedes  Granada,  replying. 

Mariana  answered,  "I  meant  I  did 
not  care  to  meet  any  one  tonight." 

Andrade  flushed.  "None  of  your  in- 
sults, Senora.  How  about  one  Juan  Fer- 
nandez?" 

His  sarcasm  was  not  so  strong  as  her 
rebuke  when  she  answered : 

"I  am  your  wife,  Senor.  It  is  you 
who  insult  me." 

Andrade  laughed,  a  hysterical,  mean- 
ingless laugh. 

167 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"  You  have  called  me,"  pleaded  Mari- 
ana. ' '  Why  ?  Only  to  laugh  at  me  f  M 

Andrade  paused.  '  'No.  You  are  too 
interesting  for  that.  I  have  been  speak- 
ing your  praises  and  my  guests  would 
have  me  prove  them.  Read  to  us." 

Mariana  passed  over  to  a  low  plat- 
form at  the  side  of  the  room  and  then 
asked,  "What  have  you  selected?" 

"  Some  thing  new — that  you  have 
never  seen  before — or,  if  you  have,  you 
should  not  have  seen,"  Andrade  said, 
with  covert  meaning. 

"The  author?"  inquired  Mariana. 

"A  great  Frenchman."  Then,  hand- 
ing her  the  book,  he  said,  "I  have 
marked  the  beginning  of  the  selection." 

Mariana  received  it,  looked  at  the 
title — paused — and  then,  in  pained  sur- 
prise, spoke  almost  to  herself : 

168 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"Manon  Lescaut!" 

Andrade  was  silent.  So  also  was  the 
company. 

"  Manon  Lescaut!"  she  repeated, 
louder.  "  You  have  given  me  the  wrong 
book,  Senor."  And  she  handed  it  to 
him,  but  he  motioned  it  back. 

*  '  No.  That  is  the  right  one, ' '  he  said, 
coldly. 

"Surely  you  do  not  wish  me  to  read 
from  this?"  she  said. 

"I  do,"  he  answered. 

With  a  gesture  of  despair  she  pleaded 
with  him.  "You  must  excuse  me." 

"Your  abilities  are  not  equal  to  the 
part  ? ' '  sneered  Andrade.  '  '  I  was  of  the 
opinion  you  could  read  anything." 

"It  is  not  that,"  she  answered,  sadly. 

"You  have  supreme  confidence  in 
your  talent,  then?"  he  demanded. 

169 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"No;  but  I  cannot  read  from  Manon 
Lescaut.  You  know  what  that  book  is. " 

Andrade 's  face  lighted  up  with  cyn- 
ical glee  at  this  unexpected  answer,  and 
then  he  asked: 

"How  do  you  know  what  that  book 
is?  You  are  not  so  saintly  and  inno- 
cent as  you  have  pretended." 

Mariana  paused,  and  then  spoke 
quietly. 

"I  do  not  know  its  contents,  but  I 
do  know,  Senor  Andrade,  that  it  has 
been  said  that  the  woman  who  can  read 
through  one  chapter  of  that  book  with- 
out blushing  is  utterly  lost.  Do  not  ask 
me,  I  implore  you." 

Andrade  smiled  harshly. 

'  'You  have  religious  scruples,  eh  ?  A 
fine  creed  you  have.  When  you  have  a 
notion  to  do  a  thing,  all  right ;  when 

170 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

you  do  not,  it  does  not  conform  to  your 
religion.  You  have  certainly  a  very 
convenient  belief,  Senora  Andrade." 

i 'It  does  not  change,"  she  answered. 

"Then  you  do!"  and  he  hurled  the 
accusation  at  her. 

Mariana  started.  "How,  Senor?" 
she  asked. 

"You  did  not  promise  to  love,  cherish 
and  obey  me?"  he  said. 

"I  did,  Senor,"  she  answered. 

"And  yet  you  refuse  to  obey  now.  I 
asked  you  to  read.  These  ladies  have 
requested  this  selection  and  if  they  can 
listen  to  it,  you  can  read  it.  I  expect 
you  to  read." 

Mariana  trembled.  Then,  partially 
regaining  her  courage,  she  picked  up 
the  book  as  though  to  read,  and  then, 
courage  failing,  put  it  down. 

171 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"No,  no,"  she  said.  "I  cannot  read 
this.  You  have  never  gone  so  far  be- 
fore, Senor — asked  quite  so  great  a  hu- 
miliation. Have  you  no  kindness  ?  To 
what  can  I  apeal  for  mercy?" 

A  light  wave  of  sympathy  passed  over 
the  guests,  but  was  stopped  by  An- 
drade's  sarcastic  and  bitter  reply. 

"You  called  me  a  barnacle  of  society, 
once,  Senora,"  he  said,  bitterly.  "Can 
you  conceive  of  mercy  in  a  barnacle  of 
society  ?  You  can  appeal  for  mercy  from 
Andrade  drunk  to  Andrade  sober,  but 
Emiliano  Andrade  is  never  sober." 

"Why  do  you  try  to  make  my  life  so 
miserable?"  she  asked,  piteously. 

"Could  you  forget  this  Juan  Fernan- 
dez it  need  not  be  so  miserable,"  he  an- 
swered. 

172 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

Her  eyes  flashed  with  a  suppressed 
emotion. 

"You  would  have  me  forget/'  she  be- 
gan, and  then,  realizing  the  futility  of 
argument,  she  became  the  suppliant. 

"Senor,"  she  said,  simply,  and  there 
were  tears  in  the  very  intonation  of  the 
word. 

"Read!"  said  he,  fiercely. 

Then  Rosa  spoke.  She  was  always 
the  quiet,  peaceful  guardian  of  Mariana 
in  those  later  years. 

"I  will  read  it  for  her,"  she  said. 

Mariana  spoke  bravely. 

"No.  If  Senor  will  not  release  me, 
then  I  appeal  to  his  guests." 

Mercedes  Granada  tossed  her  head 
contemptuously  and  then  whispered 
loudly  to  her  partner,  "Is  she  not  a 
child?" 

173 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

Concepcion  Flores  answered  more 
openly. 

"If  you  wish  your  husband  to  humor 
you,  you  must  please  him." 

Andrade  interrupted.  "You  are 
clever,  Senora,"  he  said,  "but  you  are 
not  to  win  so  easily.  I  am  the  court 
of  last  resort." 

Mariana,  now  thoroughly  aroused, 
faced  them  haughtily,  and  answered : 

*  'By  what  irony  of  fate  has  the  wine 
my  father  made  so  hardened  your  hearts 
to  kindness !  I  understand.  When  Mex- 
ico left  the  rule  of  Spain,  it  seems  her 
men  renounced  their  Spanish  chivalry, 
and  there  is  at  least  one  Frenchman  who 
cannot  boast  of  his  respect  for  woman- 
hood. I  will  not  read  from  that  book," 
and  she  hurled  it  to  the  floor  as  she 
spoke.  "I  am  not  refusing  to  obey  my 

174 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

husband,  but  I  refuse  to  follow  the  dic- 
tates of  his  drunken  mind."  . 

De  Mofras,  his  French  pride  hurt, 
protested. 

"He  is  right,"  said  Rosa,  and  noth- 
ing could  have  reproached  him  more. 

The  anger  of  Andrade  was  terrible. 
He  rushed  forward  with  the  intention  of 
striking  Mariana,  but,  realizing  his  pur- 
pose, I  intercepted  him  and  held  him 
back.  For  some  unaccountable  reason 
I  had  until  that  moment  been  powerless 
to  interfere. 

"Senor,  where  are  your  vows?"  I 
asked. 

The  guests  arose  in  confusion,  in  the 
midst  of  which  I  heard  Mariana  ex- 
claim: 

"Juan!  You  here!" 

Turning,  I  saw  her,  pale  and  ex- 

175 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

hausted,  retiring  from  the  room,  care- 
fully supported  by  Rosa  and  Pedro. 

Andrade  lost  all  control  of  himself 
and  stammered  apology  after  apology 
in  his  drunken  way,  and,  leaving  him 
in  the  chair  into  whitfh  he  had  fallen, 
I  left,  unnoticed,  in  the  excitement. 


176 


CHAPTER   XIII. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

[FTER  the  incidents  just  re- 
lated I  retraced  my  steps 
back  to  the  plaza  of  San 
Diego,  to  weigh  over  the 
events  of  the  evening  and 
determine  my  course.  Per- 
haps my  best  plan  would 
have  been  to  have  ridden  boldly  out  of 
San  Diego  and  blotted  out  a  past  I  could 
not  alter,  but  something  irresistible 
weighed  upon  me  and  I  returned,  deter- 
mined to  see  Mariana  alone. 

The  guests  were  drunk,  I  reasoned, 
and  it  would  be  easy.  To  no  purpose, 
perhaps — at  least  none  that  my  eon- 

179 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

science  would  allow — yet  I  could  not 
bring  myself  to  do  other  than  obey  that 
impulse,  and  I  returned. 

It  was  a  moonlight  night,  but  I 
scarcely  noticed  that.  I  could  have 
found  my  way  blindly  through  the 
depths  of  darkness  that  night,  for  Mari- 
ana was  my  guiding  star. 

Again  I  saw  the  lights  in  the  Andrade 
banquet  room.  And  beyond  on  the  other 
side  of  the  large  patio  a  faint  light  be- 
tokened Mariana's  presence.  I  entered 
the  patio  and  called  her  softly — a  low 
signal  she  remembered  well,  for  after  a 
moment  she  came  out  alone. 

"Oh,  Juan,"  she  said.  "Your  old 
call.  They  are  drunk  in  there,  but  they 
might  find  you  here.  Why  have  you 
come?" 

180 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"Your  heart  can  tell  you  why,"  I  an- 
swered. 

"Perhaps  it  could  have  once,"  she 
said,  sadly. 

"Not  now,  Mariana?"  I  asked.  "I 
had  hoped  this  marriage  was  forced 
upon  you." 

"It  was,"  she  answered;  "and  now 
I  am  the  wife  of  Senor  Andrade." 

I  answered  with  a  droop  of  my  head. 
It  was  hard  in  those  days  to  look  upon 
Mariana  as  anything  but  a  saint,  except 
when  I  became  restless  at  my  position. 

"I  know  that,"  I  answered.  "I  have 
only  come  to  learn  the  truth." 

"To  what  purpose,  my  friend?"  she 
asked. 

"I  must  know  the  truth,"  I  cried.  "In 
the  past  I  have  been  forced  to  yield  up, 
one  by  one,  all  of  my  ideals  to  the  cold 

181 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

abyss  of  truth — and  I  must  know  if  this 
one  is  to  follow/7 

"And  if  I  told  you  the  truth  ?"  she 
asked. 

"I  will  go,"  I  answered.  " There  are 
some  things  past  changing." 

"I  have  no  right  to  tell  you,"  she  an- 
swered with  a  shudder.  "Even  my 
tongue  is  bound." 

Perhaps  I  misunderstood  her  mood, 
the  exact  intent  of  her  words,  for  I  an- 
swered hoarsely: 

"If  you  dare  not  tell  me,  I  shall  be- 
lieve you  no  longer  care  for  me;  that 
your  love  was  only  a  pretended  passion 
—that  love  is,  in  fact,  a  fiction  of  man's 
mind." 

How  totally  different  from  mine  was 
her  mind  and  attitude  toward  life  was 

182 


IN  THE  6MADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

shown  in  the  pained  expression  in  Mari- 
ana's  features. 

"Do  not  say  that,  Juan,"  she  pleaded. 
*'I  do  love  you,  though  I  have  no  right 
to.  But  I  am  only  a  woman,  with  a 
woman's  weakness.  You  should  have 
remembered  that  and  not  come.  They 
have  held  me  by  bonds  stronger  than 
life  itself,  but  I  do  not  complain,  for  it 
may  be  best.  The  Faith  to  which  I  have 
always  looked  for  help  has  proved  the 
barrier.  San  Juan,  in  whose  shadow  I 
was  born,  still  keeps  watch  over  me,  and 
I  try  to  think  all  is  for  the  best." 

And  the  tears  she  strove  to  control 
could  not  be  entirely  hidden. 

''Yes,"  I  answered,  hotly.  "The 
shadow  of  San  Juan.  It  has  ever  been 
the  policy  of  religion  to  cast  its  shadow 
upon  men's  acts.  If  it  dared,  it  would 

183 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

eliminate  all  pleasure  from  the  face  of 
the  earth." 

"No,"  she  said,  intensely;  "it  only 
eliminates  that  pleasure  which  is  not 
worth  the  price — where  the  conse- 
quences are  out  of  proportion  to  the 
act." 

"And  is  ours  such  a  case?"  I  asked. 

"We  dare  not  question  the  purpose  of 
life,"  she  answered,  nobly.  "How  good 
Heaven  has  been  to  you  that  it  has  not 
cowed  you  with  its  power!" 

"I  have  felt  its  lack  of  power,"  I  re- 
plied. "Can  you  say  there  is  a  God 
that  permits  the  misery  and  cruelty  we 
see  on  every  hand  ?  A  God  that  makes 
Andrade  rich  and  Juan  Fernandez  poor 
—that  makes  him  of  high  rank  and  I  to 
bear  a  name  almost  dishonored — a  God 
that  makes  him  happy  and  me  miserable 

184 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 


— you,  too,  miserable,  Mariana?  And 
yet  you  believe." 

"I  believe,"  said  Mariana,  "because 
I  would  be  lost  without  a  guide." 

She  answered  simply,  without  affecta- 
tion. That  was  the  spirit  of  life  in  those 
days. 

"Everything  worth  having  has  some 
penalty  to  make  it  worth  the  while.  We 
must  pay  the  toll  of  our  happiness." 

"What  toll  pays  Andrade?"  I  asked. 

"If  you  knew  him,  you  would  pity 
him, ' '  she  answered.  ' l  Perhaps  my  pity 
for  him  has  had  much  to  do  with  my 
forbearance." 

Ah,  I  was  miserably  jealous,  and  my 
doubt  made  me  weigh  each  word  to  find 
its  value.  "You  pity  him?"  I  asked. 
"Perhaps  you  pity  me.  Is  it  that  you 
have  been  disillusioned  and  no  longer 

185 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

believe  in  love — but,  pitying,  will  not 
enlighten  me?" 

"No,"  she  answered.  "Pity  and  love 
are  not  alike.  The  one  is  nothing  and 
the  other — everything." 

"You  see  I  am  jealous,"  I  said.  "I 
can  believe  nothing.  If  it  was  not  love 
that  won  you,  perhaps  it  was  pity.  If 
not  pity,  fear.  Perhaps  this  man  has 
so  loaded  you  with  wealth  and  luxury 
that  you  have  grown  to  care  for  that, 
forgetting  his  cruelty,  but  you  are  afraid 
to  let  me  know  it.  If  that  be  true  I 
will  fathom  your  secret.  You  cannot 
hide  it  from  me." 

My  words  frightened  her.  She  placed 
her  hands  upon  my  shoulders  plead- 
ingly. 

"Juan,  Juan,"  she  said  mournfully, 
as  though  she  would  have  me  say  no 

186 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

more.  The  unhappy  condition  she  was 
in,  and  her  apparent  acquiescence  an- 
gered me.  Releasing  her  hold  upon  me, 
I  cried: 

"Take  your  jeweled  hands  away.  Per- 
haps they  were  the  price  of  your  affec- 
tion. Is  it  because  you  fear  me  that 
you  will  not  tell  me  the  truth?" 

My  actions  and  words  hurt  her  more 
than  a  blow.  By  my  thoughtlessness  I 
had  pained  her  more  than  Andrade 
could  with  his  diabolical  scheming. 

"Must  all  men  be  cruel?"  she  asked. 
"How  your  words  hurt  me,  Juan.  1 
could  not  help  it.  I  could  not  help  it." 

I  turned  from  her.  "I  cannot  be- 
lieve you,"  I  said,  despairingly.  "You 
are  too  clever  to  be  outgeneraled." 

It  seemed  that  all  the  coloring  of  her 

187 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

Spanish  nature  was  concentrated  in  her 
next  words. 

"Juan!  Juan!  How  can  you  be  so 
cruel!  Can  I  never  make  you  under- 
stand? Everything  I  could  do  I  have 
done.  Everything  I  could  say  I  have 
said.  I  was  helpless.  Can  you  not  for- 
give? Can  you  not  forgive?  Can  you 
not  forgive?" 

My  doubts  faltered  and,  won  by  her 
pathetic  appeal,  I  answered : 

"Mariana,  I  could  forgive  you  any- 
thing." 

She  smiled  gently.  A  sweet  smile  of 
righteous  triumph. 

"I  knew  you  could,  Juan.  You  are 
so  good — so  gentle-hearted.  We  must 
yield  to  the  inevitable.  I  have  told  you 
the  truth.  Go  now.  You  must  go  now. ' ' 
And  she  held  her  hand  out  in  farewell — 

188 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

a  calm,  saintly  farewell,  so  different 
from  that  of  the  evening  I  left  for  Spain 
that  I  was  maddened  with  jealousy  of 
Andrade. 

"Ah,  Mariana, "  I  cried,  "the  touch 
of  your  hand  has  kindled  the  flames  of 
love  again.  Why  must  our  love  live 
only  in  the  imagination?  I  must  have 
one  kiss — one  last  chance  to  hold  you 
in  my  arms  and  have  you  for  my  own/' 

She  was  startled  and  frightened  at 
my  words,  and  spoke  quickly,  nervously. 

"No.  Will  your  conscience  allow 
that?  No.  I  have  gone  too  far  al- 
ready." 

"  Would  you  not  have  me  to  love 
you?"  I  said,  reproachfully. 

"Juan,"  she  answered,  "if  I  would 
have  you  love  me,  I  would  use  all  my 
arts  to  keep  you.  I  would  use  my  eyes, 

189 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

and  if  you  resisted  them  I  would  use 
smiles,  and  if  you  yielded  not,  I  would 
use  my  voice,  filling  it  with  soft,  caress- 
ing tones,  until  you  followed  me  as 
though  I  were  a  siren,  calling,  calling 
for  you  to  follow,"  and  she  receded  as 
she  spoke.  Then  she  laughed  a  careless 
laugh,  a  light,  rippling  laugh,  that  shat- 
tered all  my  romance  and  brought  me  to 
my  senses. 

" Tomorrow  you  will  regret  tonight's 
speeches.  If  it  were  love  only  I  asked 
I  would  not  fear,  Juan,  but  I  want  more 
than  love.  All  men  can  love  to  some  de- 
gree, but  few  can  love  so  well  that  they 
can  forgive." 

"I  can  forgive/'  I  whispered. 

"When  the  price  of  that  forgiveness 
is  to  forget?"  she  asked. 

The  whole  world  seemed  to  be  slip- 

190 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

ping  from  me  as  she  spoke,  and  I 
powerless  to  do  aught  save  watch  it. 
On  it  swept  like  a  vague  impression  be- 
fore me,  and  Mariana,  too,  was  slipping 
away  with  it.  As  with  Orpheus,  for  me 
the  semblance  was  not  enough,  and  the 
reality  must  be  proven.  I  must  hold 
her.  Mariana,  my  Eurydice,  must  not 
be  lost  forever,  and  I  clasped  her  tightly 
in  my  arms. 

*  *  No,  Juan, ' '  she  pleaded.    '  '  No. " 
"Why  do  you  fear?"  I  asked,  for  she 
shook  like  a  captured  bird,  frightened, 
but  safe. 

"  Because  you  have  broken  down  my 
courage,"  she  sobbed.  "This  man  has 
treated  me  like  a  statue,  a  thing  to  be 
admired,  or  like  an  animal  to  be  tor- 
tured. You  have  seen  him.  I  had  al- 
most forgotten  what  love  is.  His  heart 

191 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

is  as  cold  as  the  craters  of  those  snow- 
capped, dead  volcanoes.  It  is  not  be- 
cause I  did  not  love  you  that  I  treated 
you  as  I  have.  It  was  because  I  was 
afraid  of  myself.  Afraid  that  what  has 
happened  would  happen.  You  have  gone 
too  far.  You  have  made  me  forget  that 
I  am  Senora  Andrade.  Ah,  Juan,  why 
did  you  come?" 

And  she  rested  her  head  against  my 
shoulder  and  sought  consolation  in 
tears. 


192 


CHAPTER   XIV. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

S  Mariana  sobbed,  Andrade 
stepped,  unobserved  by 
either  of  us,  into  the  door- 
way. He  was  drunk  and 
was  calling  in  a  confused 
manner  to  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  dinner  party  to 
follow.  And  they,  too,  appreciative  of 
the  cooling  effects  of  the  night  air,  fol- 
lowed. He  paused  as  he  entered  the 
patio,  and  then,  motioning  silence  to  the 
approaching  guests,  he  approached  us, 
saying  softly  to  the  guests : 

"Ssh!  Ssh!    There  is    our   virtuous 
wife  enacting  a  scene  the  like  of  which 

195 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

she  refused  to  read.  The  vane  of  her 
religion  has  swerved  again.  Ah,  what 
a  comedy !  What  a  comedy !  Stay  here 
while  I  approach."  And  he  chuckled 
lightly,  "What  a  comedy!" 

Our  minds  were  so  steeped  in  despair 
that  we  saw  and  heard  nothing.  At  this 
moment  Mariana  raised  her  head  and 
said,  earnestly: 

"  Juan,  you  must  forget  this  night- 
forget  that  I  have  ever  said  I  loved  you. 
When  Senor  Fernandez  meets  Senora 
Andrade  they  are  only  friends." 

Then,  startled  by  the  footsteps  of  the 
approaching  Andrade  or  that  strange 
faculty  that  sometimes  without  the  aid 
of  the  senses  makes  the  presence  of  an- 
other known,  we  turned. 

"Only  friends,"  repeated  Andrade, 
and  then  chuckled,  "Senora  Andrade  is 

196 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

such  a  humorous  person.  Only  friends, 
ha,  ha,  ha.  I  should  have  walked  less 
heavily  and  your  speech  would  have  had 
a  different  ending." 

' i  I  did  not  hear  you, ' '  said  Mariana. 

"  You  are  too  clever  to  admit  it,  but  I 
do  not  expect  you  to,"  said  Andrade 
with  a  gesture  of  slyness.  "My  old 
friend,  Fernandez.  I  knew  it.  I  knew 
it.  Ha,  ha,  ha.  Come  forward,  friends, 
forward." 

Mercedes  Granada  here  found  an  op- 
portunity to  revenge  herself,  and  spoke 
disdainfully.  ' 

"It  seems  Senor  has  found  more  than 
he  expected  to  find  in  the  garden." 

"Ah,  Senor  Fernandez,"  said  Ramon 
Ruiz,  "you  are  still  here?" 

"He  did  not  seem  to  enjoy  our  com- 

197 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

pany,  so  we  might  have  suspected  this/' 
added  De  Mof  ras. 

Andrade  now  interrupted. 

"  Guests,  make  yourselves  comforta- 
ble. Senora  has  found  the  proper  set- 
ting for  her  reading.  I  should  have 
known  that  while  Senora  can  read  any- 
thing well,  she  only  surpasses  when  she 
is  in  the  proper  mood.  This  moonlight 
night  makes  the  patio  a  fitting  stage  for 
her  to  act  upon.  If  you  are  through  re- 
hearsing, Senora,  we  will  be  glad  to  hear 
you/' 

Mariana  answered  positively,  and 
with  courage : 

"You  will  excuse  me,  Senor,  and  I 
will  explain  all  to  you  tomorrow,  when 
you  are  alone." 

"I  did  not  ask  for  any  explanation," 

198 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OP  SAN  JUAN 

answered  Andrade.  "I  am  delighted  to 
find  you  human  like  the  rest  of  us." 

Then,  addressing  De  Mofras,  he 
asked : 

"Duflot,  will  you  bring  that  charm- 
ing little  French  masterpiece  to  me?" 

"You  do  not  intend  to  re-enact  that 
scene,  Senor?"  I  asked. 

"I  see  no  reason  why  Senora  should 
refuse  now,"  answered  Andrade, 
suavely. 

"That  book  is  unnecessary,  Monsieur 
de  Mofras,"  I  shouted,  "and  you  will 
answer  to  me  if  you  get  it. ' '  Then,  turn- 
ing to  Andrade,  I  said : 

"Senor  Andrade,  if  you  dare  to  ask 
your  wife  to  read  that  I  will  punish  you 
for  the  insult.  She  has  done  nothing  to 
deserve  your  censure,  and  I  alone  de- 
serve that." 

199 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

"Then  why  was  she  here  with  you?" 
asked  Andrade. 

"Because  I  called  her,"  I  replied. 

"I  am  not  complaining,"  said  the 
host ;  "I  am  not  even  angry,  but  I  blame 
her.  The  woman  is  always  to  blame. 
I  know  women  too  well." 

"You  know  that  kind  of  women,"  I 
answered,  pointing  to  his  guests,  "who 
enjoy  the  misery  of  your  wife,  and  you 
get  your  theory  from  men  like  those  who 
give  you  encouragement." 

"What!"  shouted  Mercedes  Granada, 
angrily. 

"You  dare  to  insult  us!"  demanded 
De  Mof  ras. 

"Hold,  hold,"  said  Andrade.    "It  is 

the  hot  fever  of  youth  and  inexperience 

that  makes  him  speak  so.    You  think  I 

do  not  understand  women,  Senor  Fer- 

200 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

nandez.  I  knew  you  would  come  some 
day  and  try  to  steal  her  from  me.  I 
tried  to  make  her  forget  you.  I  failed. 
Then  I  sought  to  be  revenged.  I  have 
been  cruel  by  all  possible  means.  The 
Castilian  dagger  of  jealousy,  like  the 
sword  of  Damocles,  has  hung  by  a  hair 
over  her  head.  Now  I  have  made  her 
cringe  for  the  first  time.  Can  you  not 
tell  by  the  blush  of  shame  upon  her 
cheek  that  she  knows  in  thought  at  least 
she  has  been  unfaithful  to  me  ?  I  know 
her  thoughts.  At  last  I  have  made  her 
fear  me." 

Then,  turning  to  Mariana,  he  contin- 
ued: 

"You  need  not  look  so  frightened.  I 
only  show  you  in  your  right  light  to  this 
mistaken  youth  who  took  you  for  a 
201 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

saint.  I  am  done  now.  I  am  revenged 
and  I  can  pay  the  price." 

He  paused,  and  then  continued  in  a 
dazed,  almost  solitary  manner,  to  speak : 

"She  was  the  beauty  of  San  Juan 
when  I  married  her — the  saintly  daugh- 
ter of  Senor  Sauceda.  Look  at  her  now. 
She  had  an  uncurbed  will,  but  I  have 
broken  it.  She  had  rosy  cheeks  when 
I  met  her.  Look  at  them.  She  had 
luscious  lips  that  melted  in  a  kiss.  Look 
at  their  pious  lines.  She  had  soft,  lov- 
ing eyes,  but  I  have  made  them  spirit- 
less. The  beauty  of  San  Juan,  they 
called  her.  What  has  she  now  to  show? 
Am  I  not  revenged?  Even  the  veil  of 
her  religion  has  not  protected  her.  It 
has  been  my  means  of  revenge." 

It  is  difficult  to  account  for  the 
strange  mood  that  fell  upon  Andrade 

202 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

that  night,  nor  will  it  ever  be  known 
whether  it  was  the  result  of  a  drunken 
frenzy,  a  distorted  idea  of  justice,  or  a 
climax  following  a  long  life  of  mental 
and  physical  strain,  but  he  broke  off 
into  a  remarkable  combination  of  wis- 
dom and  imbecility.  The  one  expressed 
in  his  words — the  other  in  his  physical 
action,  for  almost  in  a  moment  Andrade 
broke  from  an  apparently  well-pre- 
served middle  age  into  feeble  old  age. 
He  was  standing  near  the  doorway  as 
he  spoke. 

"We  are  a  great  trio,  we  three.  She's 
Faith,"  pointing  to  Mariana,  "and  you 
are  Hope,"  indicating  me,  "and  I  am 
Charity,"  he  concluded.  "I  am  Char- 
ity," he  repeated  in  a  tone  that  sent  a 
shudder  through  us.  And  he  chuckled 
to  himself  as  he  turned  again  toward  the 

203 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

house,  walking  with  great  feebleness. 
Then,  stowing  in  the  doorway,  he 
turned  again,  and  muttered : 

"  Faith,  Hope  and  Charity.  Ha,  ha, 
ha.  Faith  Hope  and  Charity,  but  the 
greatest  of  these  is  Charity.  Ha,  ha,  ha. 
The  greatest  of  these  is  Charity."  And 
his  ghostly  laugh  lingered  and  died 
away  after  he  disappeared  in  the  house. 

A  strange  feeling  held  us  quiet.  No 
one  moved.  That  numb  condition  of 
the  mind  premonitory  of  disaster  made 
us  powerless  to  act.  It  was  as  though 
Andrade's  will,  determined  to  carry  out 
his  plans,  had  paralyzed  ours.  Mariana 
seemed  lost  in  frightened  thought  as 
though  her  mind  was  following  the  con- 
fused wanderings  of  Andrade's  reason. 
The  loud  report  of  a  pistol  brought  us 
to  our  senses.  Mariana,  as  though  she 

204 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

had  seen  all,  cried,  "That  was  his  mean- 
ing. He  has  freed  me.  But  I  must  go 
to  him." 

At  that  moment  Pedro  appeared  in 
the  doorway  and  announced  in  fright- 
ened tones : 

"Senor  is  dead." 

A  long  silence  ensued. 

"That  was  not  a  French  revenge," 
said  De  Mofras  in  awed  tones. 

"No,"  answered  Mercedes  Granada 
with  quiet  cruelty.  "It  is  worse — a 
Spanish  revenge,  for  now  Senora's  con- 
science will  prevent  her  marrying  her 
young  admirer." 

Thus  it  remained  for  a  woman  to 
strike  the  fatal  blow. 

The  long  strain  of  this  unhappy  con- 
flict at  last  broken,  and  thoroughly 
heart-broken  at  the  tragic  ending  of  An- 

205 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

drade,  Mariana  collapsed  completely. 
She  did  not  long  survive  Andrade,  but 
declined  rapidly,  and  the  story  of  one 
history  of  the  days  of  the  Padres  was  at 
an  end.  And  now  she  rests,  as  she  lived, 
in  the  shadow  of  her  beloved  Mission  of 
San  Juan. 

"To  what  purpose  was  such  a  life?" 
repeated  Juan  Fernandez.  "God  alone 
knows.  When  age  exhausts  our  physical 
forces  we  can  only  hope  to  continue  life 
on  the  spiritual  plane,  as  did  Mariana. 
Her  life  should  be  an  example  and  in- 
spiration in  the  world." 

Expressed  in  the  answer  of  Juan  Fer- 
nandez was  the  Mission  Age's  solution 
to  the  problem. 

A  rustling  breeze  rose  about  me,  whis- 
pering the  modern — "The  world  was 
made  for  you,  you,  you."  And  I  thought 

206 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  SAN  JUAN 

of  Andrade,  who  had  satisfied  desire, 
and  Mariana,  who  had  conquered  it.  To 
what  end? 

The  mantle  of  Night  fell  over  the  val- 
ley.   The  Mission  ruins  became  a  great 
shadow  against  the  neutral  background 
and  Time  and  Night  drew  a  curtain  be 
fore  the  Past. 


THE  END. 


207 


